


Sanguine Highway

by unholyseraphs (oncharredwings)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, Corruption, Dean gets aroused when he kills people, Dean is psychotic, Drugs, Dubious Consent, Kidnapping, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Murder, Murder Husbands, Stockholm Syndrome, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-17
Updated: 2014-06-14
Packaged: 2018-01-25 11:42:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 35,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1647413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncharredwings/pseuds/unholyseraphs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean Winchester has been murdering since the age of eighteen, committing acts of violence since the age of four. Accidentally, Dean dragged his younger brother Sam into his life of crime at a young age. Now, they are twenty-six and twenty-two respectively, living the dream life as the Highwaymen: the US's latest serial killers. They travel state to state, staying steps ahead of the FBI attempting to track them down. Together, they meet the Novak twins - Jimmy and Castiel - and while Dean does not find Jimmy to be interesting, he tells Sam that he just has to have the older, blue eyed Castiel for himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this fic is HELLA fucked up. Read the tags please. Castiel is seventeen, which is the age of consent. 
> 
> Dean is seriously psychotic, and he might be somewhat out of character? Then again, with this Cain development, and knowing that Dean used to be fairly cock at a younger age, I've sort of combined that all into one ball of crazy. This is my first Wincest/Wincestiel fic. So...sorry if it sucks. 
> 
> Thanks :) Feedback is appreciated! 
> 
> I didn't have a beta for this, so again, apologies for crappy things that could happen. Sorry.

The sun coming up over the trees bled golden light across the field, providing light for the workers as they bustled about the scene. Little details began to come together more clearly once the sun rose from its slumber. The missing shoe was found by the edge of the road, hidden in some tall grass. The panties had been ripped from the victim, not willingly removed, the examiner realized. There was sexual trauma to the genitals, and blunt force trauma to the woman’s head. There was a pair of black rimmed glasses found twenty feet away from the bodies. According to the IDs found, they belonged to the male. The small and suburban town of  Lacona, California had never seen this kind of violence. Not since the early 1900s at least. That had been well over one hundred years ago.

 

“You still think it was murder-suicide?” Garth asked his captain, Victor Henriksen.

 

The older man shook his head, his fingers at his mouth as he surveyed the scene along with the team. “No,” he replied quietly. “No...no it doesn’t add up.”

 

“No kidding,” Garth replied. “The perp used a condom, at least he was semi-considerate.”

 

Henriksen shook his head and turned away. “Where’s Tran? I need him to analyze this as soon as he gets here.”

 

“Yes Sir.”

 

The frost beneath his feet crunched as he walked off of the field and back to his car. He had been working for the FBI for the past ten years, and he had not seen a string of murders like this in years. Hell, the last string of murders that these reminded him of had happened back in 1969 with Charlie Manson, and his crazed family. He had only been ten during the time of the murders, but he remembered the media hype. Though his parents had tried to keep him from viewing the footage on TV, Henriksen had found ways to learn about the case. His father had been a policeman, his love for crime and solving said crime went way back.

 

But Charles Manson was locked away in prison, and despite the murders being states apart, the FBI believed that they were all connected somehow. A serial killer on a road trip. They had nicknamed the killer The Highwayman, since he seemed to be getting from place to place, leaving a body count in his wake. Most of the victims were young, attractive males, with some women thrown in now and again, as if to attempt to throw the trail off of him. The FBI had profiled the man to be in his late thirties, possibly early forties, a closeted homosexual, who had trouble picking up men, and resorted to violence due to his frustrations. He probably had something deformative in his physicality. Of course, they had also believed they would catch the guy a few months ago, but they had yet to catch him, or any real evidence he left behind.

 

Despite the sexual assault on all of the victims, no DNA was ever left behind much to Henriksen’s frustration. They were awaiting the day the perp fucked up and left _something_ behind as an identifier. So far, they had had no such luck. The killing spree had begun in November, and it was now turning to May. The killings had stretched from Wisconsin, through Iowa, Missouri, Kansas, Texas, Nevada, Arizona, and now to California. The Highwayman had a body count that stretched up to ten, now twelve victims in the past six months.

 

Henriksen sighed before slowly turning back to look at the scene. Another car was pulling up and Dr. Kevin Tran was sliding out, straightening his coat as he did. He gave Henriksen a nod. “Morning, Detective.”

 

“You know what I hope?” Henriksen asked Tran as he climbed out of his car, his voice tired and dragging through the muck.

 

“Hm?”

 

“I really fucking hope this bastard takes the damn summer off.” Henriksen sighed and ran a hand over his face.

 

\---

 

“Come on Sammy, let’s roll!!” Dean pounded on the bathroom door restlessly. They had spent too long in this small town and he was ready to hit the big city of Los Angeles. He had never been, and it was by time they make their way into L.A.

 

“I’m coming Dean,” Sam grumbled tiredly as he pushed the door open and stumbled over to grab his duffle bag, his pink toothbrush still hanging out of his mouth.

 

Dean smirked and slid his own duffle over his shoulder. “You got all your-”

 

“Yes,” Sam snapped.

 

“Oh _testy_ , testy,” Dean chided as they finally walked out of the hotel room. They were still using stolen money to pay for their nights in, but they were running out. Dean had counted this morning and they only had about one grand left. They were going to have to find more money soon. Luckily, L.A. was full of rich people who didn’t pay enough attention to two boys wearing leather jackets, and talking with a slight Southern lilt.

 

“You kept me up all fucking night, what do you expect Dean?!” Sam groaned as he slid into the Impala’s passenger seat, holding his bag on his lap.

 

“Damn right I did,” Dean replied proudly. The trunk squeaked when Dean opened it, settling his bag inside before hopping into the driver’s seat. A white smile flashed across his face, and he couldn’t stop himself from waggling his eyebrows at his little brother. “Only in the _best_ way, too. I know how you like it, baby.”

 

“Shut up Dean,” Sam said tiredly.

 

Dean’s laughter filled the car, followed shortly by Led Zeppelin as Dean started the car up and they were heading back on the road. “We’re runnin’ outta money, we gotta stock up again.”

 

Sam nodded, his head leaning back against his door. “Sure.”

 

Dean reached over and gave Sam’s leg a squeeze. “I’m feelin’ that itch again Sammy. You feelin’ it too? Or is it just me? Am I gettin’ carried away?”

 

“I dunno Dean, I’m too tired to make too many thoughts.” Sam’s eyes grew heavy and Dean slid his hand back to himself to allow Sam to nap the rest of the way to LA. Over time, he had come to find that being best friends with the monsters in the back of his head, and the skeletons in his closet was a lot easier than being in constant combat with them. No longer in the fox hole, he embraced the darkness in his mind and shook his demons’ hands. They both did, really.

 

He had started early. At the age of four he was stripping cats of their skin and hanging them in their tiny shed out behind their trailer. By six, he had strangled rabbits his dad caught in traps around the property. At ten, he had almost pommeled a classmate to death. By the time he had reached middle school, he had been feeling _urges_ his father did not approve of. High school rolled around, and Dean had dropped out at seventeen before he could graduate. The night of his eighteenth birthday, he had taken his father’s shotgun and shot the old man to death. Honestly, he had had it coming, in Dean’s opinion. Once Sammy had graduated high school, they had struck out on their own. Now, they were famous.

 

The Highwayman.

 

Dean liked the ring of it, even if he had been trying to leave some evidence to point to it being _two_ men, so the name could change to include Sammy too. It wasn’t fair, him getting all of the damn credit when Sam was a huge help. Maybe next time, they would find a way to make it more clear to the FBI without giving away who they were. Dean _loved_ how stupid the FBI were, and most of that was Sam’s smarts on the legal system. Sammy had wanted to go to law school, but then he had caught Dean having sex with Adam Milligan, their half-brother, who had been close to Dean’s age at the time. Sam had wanted in on the fun. Unfortunately for Adam, he had had a fetish for asphyxiation, and Dean had been unpracticed then.

 

He and Sammy had buried Adam in the backyard. Two nights later, Dean had found himself in Sam’s bed. They had been eighteen and fourteen respectively. Dean hadn’t _meant_ to corrupt his younger brother, but Sam had fallen in love with taking lives too. There was something about watching the life go from people’s eyes that turned Dean on. They had been so simple in the beginning; strangling people to death after sex. But lately, they had grown more personal and more violent. It was such a damn turn on that he and Sam had sex right afterward every single time.

 

The FBI hadn’t figured that part out yet, but then again they also hadn’t figured out that there were two killers, and not one. Nor had they figured out that he and Sam were brothers either. Again, Dean enjoyed how stupid the FBI were, it made this whole escapade a hell of a lot more fun.

 

The exit into L.A. made Dean’s heart thrum with excitement; the traffic was awful but Dean didn’t mind, since Sam could catch more shut eye, and he could listen to Robert Plant a little longer as he fought with the other idiots on the interstate. They hadn’t picked a hotel yet, but there was a Motel Six just off of the exit Dean took, so that was the parking lot that he pulled into, before reaching over to shake Sam awake. “Hey-wake up Sammy. Rise and shine!”

 

Sam groaned in annoyance, but eventually he lifted his head and blinked the sleep away. “What?” he said.

 

“Wake up. We’re here. In the City of Lost Angels, baby!” Dean gave Sam a huge grin as he slid out of the car to head inside to issue them a room and get a key. They had used to ask for doubles, but they had always ended up moving the beds together, so Dean had given up on that, and just had stuck to asking for a King. There was no point in pretending anymore. He loved his Sammy, and Sammy was a hell of a lot happier when he was lying in bed side by side with him.

 

The woman behind the desk was a middle aged, black woman, with a Bible in her hands. Dean almost laughed, because how stereotypical of this hotel to have an overly religious, black woman as their concierge. “Mornin’ ma’am,” he greeted with a white smile. If he kicked up his Southern charm, he could probably get a discount. If nothing else, he would keep her from being suspicious of him.

 

She glanced up at him and returned his smile. “Morning Honey, what’s a young thing like you doin’ in these parts?”

 

“Just passin’ through,” he replied as he leaned against the desk, the smile still plastered on his face. “Need a room. King sized bed if ya have it.”

 

“It’s your lucky day Honey, cuz I got just the room for ya,” she replied, her own Southern accent picking up as his did. “You got a credit card?”

 

Dean shook his head. “Cash, Sweetheart,” he replied with a wink. “That alright?”

 

She gave him a nod and took his information before issuing him a key. “There ya go Honey. Have a nice stay.”

 

“Oh I will,” he purred as he took the key from her hands. For the motel being shady as hell, Dean had to admit that it was fairly clean. He just hoped that the room was the same way. When he returned to the car, he found Sam asleep again, so with a roll of his eyes, Dean laid on the horn to wake him up. Watching Sam jump out of his skin was definitely worth the looks he received from some guests leaving the motel.

 

“It’s pretty clean in there,” he told Sam as his little brother slid out of the Impala with a long stretch. “Hope the room is the same.”

 

“Yeah,” Sam grumbled before basically dragging his bag across the parking lot.

 

Dean snorted and walked over to pinch his ass. “Pick that up, you’ll put a damn hole in it.”

 

Sam jumped and cast him a dark look, but he lifted his bag enough so it no longer scraped the asphalt. “Happy?”

 

“For now,” he replied with another wink. “I’d be happier if you sucked my cock when we get inside.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and yawned. “Nope,” he replied.  

 

“Brat.” Dean skipped ahead of Sam and got the door open, glad to see that the room was fairly clean, with a new looking bedspread. The walls were a soft blue, while the carpet beneath their feet was some cream colored cheap material. There were stains here and there, but overall, Dean realized that this motel six was freakishly upstanding. It was almost unnerving.

 

Sam walked in, set his bag down, and then he was face down on the mattress before Dean could say another word. They had slept in worse conditions, so Dean didn’t even bother making a snide comment about jizzed on sheets, or seeing a roach crawl sideways under the pillow. That last one wasn’t even a joke, Dean _had_ seen that in the last place they had slept at. They had both woken up with flea bites, and unexplainable rashes.

 

“I’m gonna go get us something to eat, ‘kay?” Dean asked as Sam nodded against the pillow he was beginning to cuddle. Smacking Sammy’s ass on the way out, Dean jingled the Impala’s keys around his finger, a spring in his step. There was a map in the car he would have to take a look at to figure out where a good spot to go on a hunt would be. They usually picked the ritzy side of the towns they visited; finding gay men in the ritzy side of towns was usually the easiest damn thing on their list of shit to do.

 

He gave everyone he passed a smile on the way to the car, his mood soaring high. They had made the front page again, and Dean was damn happy when he passed a newspaper stand in the lobby. _The Highwaymen Strikes Again_. Dean did have to roll his eyes at the terrible headline, but at least they were top news around here. Even all the way in Los Angeles. Tracing a route on a map with a pencil, Dean circled a few areas that he and Sam could scout, before pulling out of the motel’s parking lot in search of a McDonald’s or donut shop. Sammy liked donuts, but Dean enjoyed Egg McMuffins. Since Sammy was being a tired, snippy, little brat Dean decided to give into his own craving for McDonald’s since as soon as he hit the road, he could see a tall sign with the golden arches displayed.

 

The city’s smell made his nose wrinkle, but Dean figured after a few nights here, they would grow accustomed to the stench, grime, and smog. Hell, maybe they would take up almost permanent residence here. It was a huge city, and people got away with murders every damn day. Usually, Dean withstood the drive thru, but today felt like a good day to go inside and order his food, eat it, and then order Sam’s. Maybe he would even go on a hunt for a donut shop just for his little brother. That would depend on how he felt after his meal, of course.

 

Dingy was a fairly accurate word to describe the inside of the McDonald’s, Dean realized as he glanced around. The floors were yellowed with age, the menu’s layout horribly outdated, and the woman behind the counter looked so damn bored that Dean almost pulled his gun out to hand over so she could pull the trigger herself. Instead, Dean walked up to her and offered her a nice smile to brighten her day. She was overweight, her hair in tight brown curls, and there was an obscene mole next to her upper lip, a black whisker poking out of it. He had to stop himself from reaching across to pluck it free.

 

“What can I get you?” she asked him, her voice so monotone that she could make robots sound lively.

 

Dean glanced up at the menu and then back at her again. “Egg McMuffin. Please.”

 

“Meal?”

 

“Yeah. Please,” he added again. His mother had always taught him to be polite, no matter how rude someone was to him. Of course, sometimes that instinct became muddled. Sometimes, people were just too damn rude to keep breathing.

 

“Three fifty,” she said after punching in some buttons at the register.

 

Dean slid his wallet out and pulled out a five. “Keep the change,” he replied with a slight wink. Clearly, he was in a great mood this morning. The woman stared at him in surprise, and Dean saw with satisfaction a blush creep across her face. She even tittered around for a moment, as if she were unsure what to do with his charms. If Sam would have been here, he would have given Dean a dirty look. Sam _hated_ it when Dean flirted with women that stood no chance with either of them. Sam thought Dean was just being rude, Dean thought he was doing these ugly women a public service. _Someone_ had to pay attention to them, it may as well be him; it wasn’t as if they would ever see him again.

 

The intoxicating smell of the Egg McMuffin filled his nose as his tray was passed along, and he was soon carrying it over to a table next to the window so he could keep an eye on his Baby. The Impala only came second to Sam, and sometimes, when he was mad at Sam, _before_ him. He had even made Sammy hitch hike back to a hotel once for insulting Baby’s interior. Sam had never insulted her again. The McDonald’s remained mostly quiet as Dean savored his sandwich, debating on getting up to order another, until the door’s bell jingled. Dean almost didn’t look up, since his food was just so damn good, but at the last minute he decided to glance up.

 

A woman with a tight bun and a no-nonsense gray suit had walked in, trailed in by two boys who were so identical it made Dean’s stomach tighten in surprise. He had never seen twins in real life before. Clearly, Los Angeles had all kinds of surprises in store for him. The boys were handsome, younger than Sammy by a few years; Dean wasn’t even certain they were legal, with their young faces, blue eyes, and dark hair. Despite them being identical, Dean picked up on their very different mannerisms quickly. The one on the left seemed quiet, more demure, than the one on the right, as if he were afraid of everyone, and everything. The brother on the right walked confidently, his head held high, and Dean had to admit, his ass looked damn good in the tight jeans he wore. The other twin was not nearly as exciting in dress, as the one with the nice ass.

 

Dean’s jeans were tightening at the thought of taking both twins back to the motel with him. He would probably shoot the one on the left before he even opened his mouth, but the one on the right? He would take his time with undressing him, tying him up, fucking him for a few days, and then finally letting Sammy decide what to do with him. The thoughts made the last bite of his sandwich close to orgasmic, and he couldn’t stop the moan that slid free of his mouth. The sound made the confident twin turn his bright blue eyes on him, and Dean felt almost knocked backwards out of his seat. He had gorgeous eyes; intelligent, and calculating. Dean almost felt guilty for picturing the color of the kid’s blood, and what it would look like on new motel six sheets.

 

“Castiel,” the woman snapped icily, and the blue eyes turned away from Dean to look at her. “What do you want?”

 

“Whatever Jimmy is having, Mother,” he replied before looking at Dean again. There was a slight frown creasing between those pretty, dark brows.

 

Dean smiled at him and gave him a little wave, but that only made him look away again. Dean’s eyes narrowed, and he had to keep his anger from blowing up. Stupid kid, ignoring him like that. Here he was, trying to flirt and be a nice gentleman, and this kid was being rude. He hated teenagers sometimes. They were all spoiled little shits that needed a good ass spanking. Of course, Dean had to admit the interesting twin that had just theoretically denied him, had an intriguing name. And not one he would just forget either. After all, how many Castiels could there be floating around on the internet?

 

\---

 

“Get your ass up, I went and got you damn donuts, ya brat,” Dean said as soon as he came back into the motel room, even though Sam was already sitting up.

 

“I am up,” he snapped back, his tone on the defensive. “What’s up your ass?”

 

“Nothing,” Dean replied as he tossed Sam the bag of breakfast food. “There. Eat your donuts.”

 

“I will!” Sam pulled the bag open and eagerly dug into the powdered one. “Mmmm. Thanks.”

 

“Yeah. Yeah.” Dean walked over to Sam’s bag and dug out his laptop, setting it down on the desk to look up _Castiel_. The little fucker had to have one of those Facebook’s. There was no way he didn’t have one; every kid below the age of twenty-two had one. Dean had never been a fan of social media, and he had made Sam take his down.

 

“What are you doing?” Sam asked after he swallowed the huge bite of donut.

 

“Looking something up,” he replied quietly. He typed in several different versions of Castiel:

 

Casteeyell

Casteayell

 

Cas-t-ell

 

Dean cursed himself for not knowing how to spell the kid’s name, before a search _finally_ produced a result that seemed promising. Castiel Novak. Facebook account. A grin spread across Dean’s face as he clicked on the link, and the blue eyed boy was staring back at him. “Got you,” he whispered.

 

“Got who? Seriously, what are you doing?” Sam dug out another donut, eagerly popping half of it into his mouth.

 

“I was at McDonald’s, just enjoying my meal..and this bitch in this grey suit walks in, right? Behind her, she’s got two kids. Twins. One of ‘em, name was Castiel, I think the other one was Jimmy, but I didn’t give a fuck about him. He looked like he was scared of his own damn shadow, but Castiel.” Dean shuddered and he _knew_ that Sam knew. When Dean found a guy he liked, and had to have, they would not rest until they had the guy in their hands. That was just how Dean worked; when he wanted something, he _had_ to have it.

 

“So you looked him up on the internet? Wow, look at you Old Man, figuring out technology.”

 

Dean gave Sam a nasty look. “I’m twenty-six, asshat. I know how the internet works.” Dean spun the computer around so Sam could look at the photo. “He’s cute, yeah?”

 

“How old is he?” Sam asked skeptically.

 

“I dunno. Why’s that matter?” Dean asked before turning the computer back around so he could click through Castiel’s photos. There weren’t many available for the public, but he memorized them anyway.

 

“Since when do we kidnap kids?” Sam continued.

 

There was worry in Sam’s voice, as if he were doubting Dean’s decision. Frowning, the older Winchester looked up and tilted his head to the side. “He isn’t that damn young. He’s gotta be-” Dean checked through the kid’s profile. “Says he’s seventeen. That’s legal enough.”

 

Sam shrugged, as he finished off his final donut. “Kids go missing, and people give a shit Dean.”

 

“Eh, she’s got another one just like him.”

 

“Dean!”

 

“What?” Dean asked innocently before finally shutting the laptop, having committed Castiel’s face to his memory.

 

“Jesus Christ, sometimes I think you’re too fucked up.” Sam shook his head, crumpling up the paperbag and tossing it into the trash can sitting next to the bed.

 

“Baby,” Dean snapped, this time more annoyed, no longer using the term as one of endearment. “You too big of a pussy to fuck a seventeen year old, cuz I ain’t. He was hot.”

 

Sam sighed, slowly lying back down, pulling his shirt up to fan himself. “It’s hot in here.”

 

“You just wanna flash me your boobs,” Dean teased, but from the look he received from Sam made his smile fade away. “Hey, I can’t fix the damn A/C, I don’t have magical powers.”

 

Sam sighed. “Yeah, I know. We need a better place to stay.”

 

“We get a better place to stay, and we ain’t getting away with jack. Now quit your damn bitchin’.” The floor creaked slightly when Dean stood up and walked over to the bed, going to straddle Sam’s shins.

 

“Get offa me!’ Sam complained but Dean was already leaning down to catch Sam’s lips, licking some of the powder from them. “Dean-”

 

“Shhh,” Dean whispered, his tongue catching up stray bits of powder, before licking his way into Sam’s mouth. He tasted like donuts with an aftertaste of mint from his toothpaste. Dean groaned into Sam’s mouth, grabbing his brother’s arms and pinning him down, shifting his entire weight on Sam to keep him still. “I’m gonna fuck you,” he mumbled against Sam’s throat as he trailed his mouth downwards.

 

“It’s too hot,” Sam replied, clearly tired of Dean’s escapade. “Stop, Dean.”

 

“Aw c’mon baby, let me fuck you good morning-” Dean grunted when Sam kneed him, and slowly he slid off of Sam to nurse his wounds. “Asshole.”

 

“You can fuck me later, I’m not in the mood.”

 

“Yeah, you’re a fucking grouch, goddamn. Go jerk it in the fucking shower, brat.” Dean gave Sam a shove, which almost sent him to the floor.

 

“Hey!” Sam sat up and smacked Dean’s hand away. “ _You_ go jerk it, you’re the one hitting on me, remember?”

 

“Fine,” Dean snapped before getting up to unbuckle his belt, drop his pants and boxers, and walk to the bathroom. “I will. Have fun listening me enjoy myself.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and settled back down on the bed. “Have fun jerking it.”

 

“Oh, I will,” Dean promised as he slid into the bathroom, discarding his shirt to the floor. He wouldn’t even do Sam the service of thinking on him when he jerked it; he was going to think on Castiel and his pretty blue eyes, and the way he would probably keen and whimper as Dean slid his cock in and out of his tight hole. Of course, he had a feeling that little bitch wasn’t a virgin, but he was sure he’d still be pretty tight. Which was too bad because Dean had a fetish for virgins, but virgins were hard to find, and came few and far between in Dean’s opinion.

 

The water was only tepid, which was the first sign that they were indeed in a cheap motel, but Dean jerked at his cock anyway. With each swipe of his hand, he made a loud groan, moaning out Castiel’s name instead of Sam’s to try and elicit jealousy. He had  left the door unlocked, but so far Sammy wasn’t biting. Dean sped up his hand, pumping his wrist so fast that his toes ended up curling so hard  that they cracked. Castiel would probably be a naughty little slut in bed, eager to please, and he’d probably take a cock like a pro. Dean grunted at the thought, almost spilling over onto his hand, but with a squeeze, he kept the orgasm at bay. By now, he knew that Sam wasn’t going to come and join him, so Dean settled on slowing down and really fantasizing about Castiel.

 

They would find a way to lure him into the car, maybe he’d offer him some money for sex. Teenagers were always eager to make quick money. Then he’d let Castiel blow him. Afterwards, he’d tell Castiel he would even drive him home, but then he would return to the motel instead. By then, he was certain he would have charmed Castiel into coming inside with him, promising him more sex, which he would get, especially if he was good at blow jobs. Dean was a sucker for oral. Then, he and Sammy would break him in; fucking him, spanking him, finally tying him up…

 

Dean groaned, speeding up his hand again as he felt a wave of pleasure take over his body. He was going to come, he realized too late. His fantasy would have to wait. Panting and even giving up a whimper, Dean painted the shower wall white, watching as his jizz slid down the linoleum slowly. His cock ached as he came again, twitching in his hand. Eventually, he grew too sensitive and Dean had to drop his hand away. The pleasure ebbed to nothing, and Dean scrubbed himself clean, despite his cock’s protest. He had to be clean for Sammy; Sammy hated it when he left the shower with his cock still white and sticky.

 

When he was clean, Dean dried off with a towel but he didn’t bother to come out with it wrapped around his waist, he just walked out naked. Sam’s eyes fell on his cock immediately and Dean almost felt bad for being soft and not at least half hard for him. But Sam gave him a small smile anyway and even patted the spot next to him, so Dean was quick to crawl into bed.

 

“I heard you in there,” Sam whispered. “You weren’t saying my name. Bitch.”

 

“Jerk,” Dean replied affectionately as he leaned into give Sam another kiss, this one more tender and gentle. “I’m sorry. I was mad at you.”

 

“I know. It’s okay,” Sam whispered, sliding a hand between Dean’s legs and giving his cock a squeeze. “I still love you. You love me?”

 

“Always,” Dean hissed as he felt himself stir again. “Jesus Sammy, making me fucking hard all the damn time. Look what you do to me.”

 

Sam smirked, clearly amused. “You want me to suck you off?”

 

Dean nodded eagerly. “Hell yeah baby, suck me off.”

 

Sam slid down, pressing kisses to Dean’s stomach, pelvis, and hips, before wrapping his tight mouth around Dean’s entire shaft. He groaned, his eyes immediately fluttering shut, as Sam worked him slowly, rubbing his head against the back of his throat. Sammy was _such_ a good cockslut.

 

“Fuck Sammy,” he panted as Sam began to bob his head, clearly intending to get Dean off quickly. “Yeah baby, just like that-oh _shit_ , you know how to get me going-”

 

Sam glanced up at Dean, sucking him harder, his hand coming around to rub at Dean’s balls, teasing them mercilessly. Dean’s groans filled the room before he was finally shooting off down Sam’s throat, his cock jerking and balls twitching. When Sam sat up again, he opened his mouth and showed Dean the pretty white mess.

 

“Oh fuck baby,” Dean whispered sleepily. Three damn orgasms and Dean was ready to nap. “That’s hot.”

 

“You taste so good Dean,” Sam whispered after swallowing. “You sleepy? I know you always get sleepy. I’ll keep the TV low, I promise.”

 

Dean nodded, allowing Sam to settle down, and then Dean had his head in Sam’s lap to sleep. Dean smiled and felt content as Sam began to pet him, his eyes growing so heavy that he almost felt drugged. Everything was perfect, and soon they would have a blue eyed boy in their grasp.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

The air conditioning was a relief from the ninety degree weather, slipping over Castiel’s skin like a comforting blanket. Jimmy came in behind him, but Castiel was already walking over to a rack of t-shirts that seemed promising. The store clerks didn’t even raise their eyes to them, as the store was already fairly packed full of teens and their parents.

 

“Cas, we should go home,” Jimmy whispered, but Castiel ignored his twin’s bitching. Jimmy _always_ bitched. Even when Castiel slid items that his twin wanted into his bag for him, he still fucking bitched. “Cas-”

 

“Jimmy. Shut up.” Castiel casually slid a t-shirt in his size into his bag before moving over to a rack that had accessories dangling on it. Castiel had a thing for jewelry, even if it was more of a girl thing to do. He also had a thing for short denim shorts, cropped tops, and converses. His svelte tan skin looked good in the shorts, and his stomach was flat and perfect; he had always made the girls in his class jealous with his good looks. He had the body they all wanted.

 

“We’ll get caught,” Jimmy hissed, his voice rising in a whine.

 

Castiel spun around and gave Jimmy a dark look. “Seriously, shut up. _You_ are going to get us caught because you’re a moron. Now shut up. What do you want?” When Jimmy shrugged, Castiel rolled his eyes and grabbed a necklace that had a feather on the end to put into his bag next. The trick was to leave with a group of people who had bags of clothing, so when the alarm went off, they could sneak out easily. Castiel had started shoplifting at thirteen, and to date he had never been caught.

 

Jimmy shoved his hands in his jeans’ pockets to keep them from visibly shaking. “If you go to jail, I’m gonna pretend I don’t know you.”

 

Castiel snorted. “Yeah, good luck with that genius, we have the same face. Obviously, you know me.” There was a nice pair of shorts that had metal studs in them, and the edges were frayed and torn as if someone had cut them. That was just the fashion these days, as his mother would say, even as she didn’t understand her son’s sense of style. She told him that he dressed _too_ girly, and too homoerotic. He found that funny. She hated that he liked to suck boys’ cocks rather than eat girls’ out, but she hadn’t disowned him yet either. As long as he kept his behavior quiet, and not too much in society’s face, she would still give him money. It was easier to steal clothes, than to spend his allowance on them; he spent his money on better things than clothing.

 

Like booze  and drugs. He had gained a liking for vodka and over the counter pills. He had almost OD’d on Tylenol once, but Jimmy had made him throw up before he had passed out. Somehow, he was still alive. His mother didn’t know about his drug and alcohol habits, and as far as Castiel were concerned, she wouldn’t ever.

 

“Can I have that?” Jimmy whispered before gesturing at an acid wash, denim vest that had some spikes on the shoulders.

 

“ _Really_?” Castiel asked in surprise. The vest was something he would wear for sure, but Jimmy was by far a more conservative dresser than he had ever been.

 

“Yeah,” Jimmy muttered. “I think Benny would like me in it.”

 

Castiel rolled his eyes but he slid his hand out to take up the vest, holding it up to Jimmy first before stuffing it away. They had a good haul so far; he had already snatched up three shirts, five necklaces, a bracelet, and now this vest for Jimmy. “I’m surprised he hasn’t dumped you yet. “

 

“Why would say something like that?” Jimmy whined, his voice full of hurt.

 

Castiel glanced up at his twin and saw a look of betrayal in his eyes; it made him roll his own again snidely. “Because you won’t put out,” he replied firmly. “Which is dumb, because you’ve been stringing that poor Cajun along for months now, and you haven’t even let him cop a feel.”

 

“He doesn’t care-” Jimmy tried to protest but Castiel quickly cut him off.

 

“He’s a twenty year old college student, trust me, he _cares_ Jimmy. He’s probably getting the D from someone else, since you aren’t putting your ass out for him.” He heard Jimmy gasp and slowly he glanced over at his twin, in time to see him quickly walk out of the store. Again, Castiel rolled his eyes, but he slowly set the item in his hands down to follow a group of people out the door. The alarm went off but the clerk waved them on since they had bags and she had just confirmed their purchases.

 

“Jimmy wait,” Castiel called. Jimmy was hurrying away, so he had no choice but to break into a jog to catch up to his brother. “I’m _sorry_.”

 

“No you’re not. You’re a dick, Cas. You’re so rude, and no _wonder_ you can’t get a steady relationship. You’re just a giant slut!” Jimmy crossed his arms around his waist, but Castiel was quick to grab his shoulder and spin him around.

 

“You just call me a slut? So what if I like to get laid? Nothing wrong with me getting laid-”

 

“Yeah, and there’s nothing wrong with me _not_ getting laid!” Jimmy roared, which made several passers by turn to look at them.

 

Castiel tightened his grip on Jimmy’s arm, drawing him over to a bench to sit down. “I said I was sorry, okay? God, stop being a prude. You’re right, I was a big jerk, I’m _sorry_. I just think that he’s probably cheating on you, okay? Not because of you...because he’s a twenty-year-old college student who’s going to UCLA, and _not_ getting laid by his seventeen year old boyfriend? Are you serious? Do you even _realize_ how sketch that sounds?”

 

“Benny’s a gentleman,” Jimmy huffed, rubbing his arms self consciously. “And he wouldn’t cheat on me. He doesn’t mind waiting. He said it helps him concentrate on his studies...not everyone is giant horndog like _you_.”

 

“So? I like sex. What’s the big deal with liking sex?” Castiel snapped.

 

“What’s the big deal with _not_ liking sex?” Jimmy countered, his tone growing more and more annoyed by the minute.

 

“Nothing,” Castiel admitted quietly. “I just think you need to get laid.”

 

“Well, I’m good, okay? I don’t need to get laid. I got a hand, and an imagination.” Jimmy stood and Castiel slowly followed suit. “Let’s go home before Mother starts to worry, and sends her stupid guard dog after us.”

 

Castiel rolled his eyes as he thought on their mother’s boyfriend, Zachariah. He was a douchebag in a monkey suit’s clothing, who had been touching Castiel below the waistline since he had hit puberty. The last time the bastard had put his hands up the back of Castiel’s shorts to rub his ass, he had turned around and punched him in the face. He was sick of the old creep feeling him up, while also fucking his mother. Maybe if he had been younger, more attractive, and less of a skeeze, Castiel could have found a way to reap the benefits of having a secret sugar daddy, but he was sick and tired of Zachariah’s shit.

 

“Yeah. Okay,” he grumbled reluctantly. Perhaps if he stayed in Jimmy’s room tonight, Zachariah would leave him the hell alone, since he only felt up Castiel and not his brother. He didn’t know if it was because he found Castiel more attractive somehow, or if it was because Castiel was known to be easy.

 

“Maybe we could get pizza tonight,” Jimmy commented before sliding his arm slowly through Castiel’s, glad to walk close together.

 

“Hmm, doubtful.” Their mother was a health nut, and they had to beg and plead to get sweets now and again. Castiel had an insatiable sweet tooth, which he only ever got to satisfy when he and Jimmy were out together on Melrose, or walking down to the corner ice cream shop on August nights when their mother was too tired to deal with them.

 

“Maybe if we clean the kitchen or something,” Jimmy continued, his tone full of hope.

 

Castiel shook his head and picked up his pace as they drew closer to their street. They lived in the Fairfax District, which was on the corner of Melrose Avenue. They spent a lot of their time on Melrose, using the five finger discount as frequently as possible. Their house was at the end of a quiet street, that housed too many Jews, according to Zachariah and his mother. His family was strictly Christian, so Castiel could never understand why his mother had moved them to a Jewish community, but he had always liked his neighbors. The old couple who lived directly across from the Novaks had babysat Jimmy and himself for years, before they had finally become old enough to be trusted in the house alone.

 

“Looks like Mom isn’t home,” Jimmy was saying, which drew Castiel back into the now slowly.

 

“What?”

 

“Mom’s car isn’t in the driveway.” Jimmy pointed to their house, which was the end of the cul-de-sac they lived on.

 

“Sweet. Maybe we can sneak some of her vodka out.” Castiel gave his twin a wink, before dashing off ahead to put the security code in at the garage. He could practically feel Jimmy panicking, but Castiel ignored him and skipped into the house instead. Zachariah’s car wasn’t in the driveway either, which meant they had the house to themselves, which was a blessing all unto itself.

 

“Cas, don’t break into the liquor cabinet!” Jimmy called after him as Castiel slid into the kitchen.

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Jimmy worried too much in Castiel’s opinion, but he dug around in his bag to pull out the vest he had snatched up, shoving it into his twin’s arms before turning to go up the staircase to his bedroom. He would try on all of his clothing, and hope they all fit; he was hardly ever wrong but sometimes he grabbed the wrong size and had to go back for something different. He tried not to steal from the same place in the same week. Spreading out was smarter, and since there were so many shops on Melrose, and Castiel had been shoplifting for years, he had a system that was almost foolproof. No one ever expected a white boy with a rich CEO mother to steal, so why pay attention to him anyway?

 

“I’m going out tonight,” Jimmy announced to him at his doorway.

 

Castiel turned around and smiled. “Yeah? With who? Loverboy? How you gonna pull that off, huh? Mom won’t let you go out with a _boy_.”

 

Jimmy blushed and fiddled with the end of his t-shirt. “I’m going out with some friends...and then I’m going to meet Benny on Melrose-”

 

“ _Oh_ , you naughty little bitch.” Castiel giggled and jumped over to Jimmy, throwing his arms around his twin’s neck. “I’ve taught you _so_ well. You should give your boytoy a blow job, he deserves it. If he isn’t cheating on you, he’s got hella blue balls, so you should be a good little virgin and relieve him of his agony.”

 

“Do you _listen_ to yourself talk? Ever?” Jimmy asked incredulously, which made Castiel smile and plant a wet kiss on Jimmy’s cheek.

 

“All the time, Jimmy. All the time. Have fun. When are you leaving?”

 

“I dunno, a few hours I guess.”

 

“Sweet. Seriously, get laid.” Castiel pressed another kiss to Jimmy’s cheek before releasing him and returning to trying on his clothes. He heard Jimmy mumble something, but it was too low to make out, so Castiel ignored him. Hopefully, his twin would be back at a decent hour at the window, and he could camp out in Jimmy’s room to escape any inevitable sexual assault. He was just not in the mood to be groped tonight.

 

\--

 

Benny was late, and by late, he meant about an hour. Castiel would have told him that he had been stood up, and since Benny hadn’t replied to any of his text messages, Jimmy would probably believe him. Benny had never stood him up before, but he supposed there was a first time for everything. He knew that he should probably call Castiel to see if his brother would come and pick him up, but he supposed getting something to eat wouldn’t hurt either. There was a sandwich shop still open, so Jimmy made his way inside and ordered a meatball sub, because those were always good to eat, no matter what time of day or night.

 

He didn’t see the handsome man sitting at the corner table eating his own dinner, not until he was sitting in a booth, meatball sub on a plate, and then he was suddenly joined by a man with a strong jawline that housed a healthy amount of stubble, large green eyes, and freckles decorating his face like small constellations. His tawny hair was slightly mussed, as if  he had been running his fingers through it recently. If Jimmy were going to be extremely honest with himself, he would tell himself that this man was extremely attractive. Castiel would be all over him, but Jimmy _had_ a boyfriend...who had stood him up. Maybe, he would make Cas proud and flirt a little.

 

“Hi there,” the man said with a perfect smile. “I’m Dean.”

 

“Hi,” Jimmy said shyly. He probably should say his name but the guy just kept smiling at him, and that was making very hard to function mentally. “Um-”

 

Dean continued to smile before slowly leaning forward against the table. “You busy tonight, sweetheart?”

 

A blush was blooming quickly along Jimmy’s cheeks to the point where he could feel his face turn hot. “Um-no… No. I’m not, actually. My date stood me up.”

 

“ _Stood you up_?” Dean gasped and stared at him in horror. “You’re _kidding_. A sweet thing like you? Getting stood up? Oh baby, I’ll make that up for that asshole who wronged you. You wanna go take a ride? I got a great car out front.”

 

He could feel the butterflies fluttering in his stomach, and Jimmy was certain there was a tiny little Castiel on his shoulder telling him to get laid. This was probably a horrible idea, considering he didn’t _know_ this guy, he could be a total psycho...especially with that serial killer roaming around. But Dean was a handsome young man, who was probably a little older than Benny. He wasn’t a serial killer. That was how Jimmy found himself smiling, nodding, and soon following Dean outside to the black Chevy 1967 Impala.

 

\--

 

“Hey Dean-whoa-...what happened? Are you alright?!” Sam hopped up to his feet and rushed up to Dean, reaching out to touch him and then stopping himself. “Dean?”

 

“I um...picked up the wrong guy,” Dean replied as he went into the bathroom to scrub at his hands.

 

“What? The wrong guy? I didn’t know we were doing it tonight-” Sam stammered, going to stand in the bathroom’s doorway. “How the hell did you get in here and no one saw you?”

 

Dean shrugged. “It’s like two a.m. Sammy, nobody asks fucking questions at two in the morning. Come out to the car with me.”

 

“Is he...I mean...the guy...is he dead?” Sam asked slowly.

 

“No, he’s just passed out. I’m pissed at him, he fucking lied to me that little pretentious little shit. I’m gonna make him fucking pay-” Dean slammed his fists down on the white sink, gripping the edge so tightly that Sam could see his brother’s knuckles turn white through the blood stains.

 

“Dean, calm down,” Sam whispered. He reached out to lightly grasp Dean’s shoulder, going to stand behind him and rub at his brother’s shoulders through his leather jacket. “You gotta relax, you’re getting worked up. What happened, walk me through it.”

 

“You know that guy I told you about? Castiel? I thought I found him in the place I was getting a sub. I walked over, sat with him, invited him back with me. We were necking in the car, and I started trying to take his clothes off, and I told him he was sexy as fuck. Cuz he is-and _then_ , I call him by his name. That little fucker pushes me back and says, ‘I’m not Castiel. I’m Jimmy.’” Dean shuddered and pressed his forehead against the edge of the sink.

 

Sam sighed and squeezed Dean’s shoulders some more, leaning down to press an affectionate kiss to the back of Dean’s neck. “So you got mad?”

 

“ _Yes_ Sammy! Yes I got mad, that little son of a bitch-dressing like his fuckin’ twin. I’m gonna strangle him, I swear to Christ-”

 

“Tell me what happened next, Dean. Talk to me. Talk it out.”

 

Dean slowly straightened up, a deep breath filling his lungs. “I stared at him a moment, grabbed his head and slammed it against Baby’s window a few times...I didn’t _mean_ to take it out on Baby, but I was just pissed. I knocked him out, and I made his damn nose bleed, s’why I got blood on my hands. I gotta bring him in here, or we gotta take him somewhere to finish the damn job.”

 

“We should probably take him somewhere Dean. I know it’s late but, if he screams-” Sam began but Dean shook his head and stepped out of the bathroom to straighten his jacket, the zippers jingling.

 

“No. No I want him in here. I’ll be back.”

 

“Dean-do you want help?” Sam asked but Dean was already leaving, and he couldn’t say anything else. The only thing he could do was sit on the bed and wait for Dean to come back. Five minutes felt like forever, but finally Dean returned with a boy in his arms, his face bloodied and bruised. “Jesus, Dean, what did you do to him?”

 

“I beat his little face, that’s what,” Dean growled before carrying him over to the air conditioning unit and dumping him on the floor. “Gimme the zip ties.”

 

Sam pulled out Dean’s bag, and removed the zip tie so Dean could wrap the kid’s hands up over his head. Sam watched as Dean tied up the kid’s wrists, and then another tie to the A/C unit. Next, Dean pulled out a knife from his back pocket and grabbed the kid’s shirt, quickly cutting the cotton free so he could see his chest, and stomach. Sam watched Dean pop open the kids fly and yank down his pants, followed shortly by the kid’s underwear, which Dean cut free of his body.

 

“Get rid of his clothes,” Dean ordered, his voice gruff and annoyed.

 

Sam nodded, gathering up his clothes, and going to toss them in his duffle bag. They would burn them later. “You gonna-I mean you want the room?”

 

“Yeah,” Dean growled, even as he began to unbuckle his jeans.

 

Sam shuddered and tried not to stare; he tended to get off watching Dean overpower other people, but when Dean wanted the room, he knew it was going to be rough and violent. “You might wanna gag him.”

 

“Yeah I know,” Dean growled. “I _know_ Sam. I’m not a damn idiot.”

 

“Sorry Dean,” Sam whispered before grabbing some cash so he could go to a vending machine while Dean took care of himself. “I’ll be in the hall, Dean.”

 

“Whatever.”

 

Dean was being short and sharp with him, which meant that he was not in a good mood, and it was probably in Sam’s best interest to stay the hell away from him, anyway. Making sure the door was shut, Sam made his way down the hall to where he had seen a vending machine. The motel was so quiet, he just hoped that Dean didn’t make the kid scream. The machine’s fluorescent light flickered dangerously as Sam stared at the contents inside; there was an array of candy and snack foods. His stomach growled to remind him of how hungry he was, since Dean had been away for most of the day. Dean had _promised_ to bring him food, and hadn’t, instead Dean had brought a beaten up kid.

 

The candy crashed to the bottom of the machine, and it made a noise that seemed as loud as a gunshot in the silence. The only other noise that Sam could make out was the humming of the light as it flickered in a constant electric heart beat. The candy would only go so far he knew; hopefully Dean would finish and they could go get something to eat. Or order something. He didn’t even care what they ate, as long as it was filling. Sam made his way back down the hallway, slowly sinking down to sit on the floor next to their door, munching on the Snickers bar slowly. He could hear Dean’s grunts and pants coming through the wall, and there was a muffled whimper, he assume was from the kid. So, he was awake now.

 

Considering Dean’s level of anger rising, he probably wouldn’t be awake for much longer.

 

Eventually, Sam heard the moans and grunts fade and then there was movement, and finally the door opened. He glanced back over his shoulder up at Dean, whose pants were still hanging open. “You feel better now?”

 

Dean nodded. “Yes. You can come in now.”

 

“Good, I’m starved. Please tell me we can go get food.” Sam hopped up to his feet and made his way into the room. The kid, Sam was sure that Dean had said his name was Jimmy, was awake and limp against the air conditioning unit, his legs splayed open obscenely. “He’s cute.”

 

“Yeah, but he fucking lied, fucking punk.” Dean walked over and kicked Jimmy in the ribs before going to sit on the bed. “You’re hungry?”

 

“ _Yes_. You said you were going to bring something for me to eat because _you_ took the car, asshat. How long are we keeping him?” Sam gestured at Jimmy. “I’m surprised you haven’t done him in yet-”

 

At Sam’s words, Jimmy squealed and began to wriggle around, trying to get free. Dean rolled his eyes and turned cold eyes on him. “Shut up,” Dean snapped coldly. “I don’t know, he had a tight ass. I liked it.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes. “I’m hungry.”

 

“Alright. Fucking Christ, Sammy,” Dean snapped tiredly. “Can’t you just fucking wait-”

 

“You _promised_! Asshole-”

 

Dean stood and grabbed his wallet from his back pocket. “Here!” He shoved some cash into Sam’s hands. “Go walk up to the corner store and buy some fuckin’ food. I’ll make it up to you later.”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and snatched the cash from his hands. “You want anything?”

 

“Bring me some pie.”

 

Sam sighed. He should have known. Dean _always_ wanted pie. “Okay, whatever….try to...behave.” Jimmy whimpered pathetically as Sam walked out the door, and he was pretty sure he heard Dean kick him again as the door closed.

 

\--

 

“If you promise not to scream, I’ll take the gag off,” Dean said slowly to Jimmy. “But if you scream, I’ll cut your damn vocal chords out, you got it?” When the kid nodded pathetically, Dean reached over and cut the gag free.

 

“Please don’t kill me,” Jimmy whimpered, tears streaming down his face. “Please- _please_ -....My Mother has lots of money, she’ll pay for me to come back--f-for you to let me go. Please?”

 

Dean rolled his eyes. “ _Shut up_. God, you’re fucking pathetic. You brat. Dressing up like your brother. You brought this on your fucking self.”

 

“I’m _sorry_ -I-I didn’t know-I’m sorry. Please let me go, I’ll be good. I won’t say anything, I’ll just...go home…” Jimmy’s lip trembled. Dean could see him trying to fight tears.

 

“Dry it up or I’ll shiv your ass, got it?” Dean snapped, tilting his knife into the light so Jimmy could see it glint. The kid bit his lip and nodded, his eyes still shimmering with tears. “We can’t let you go. We _never_ let anyone go. You should have kept on wearing your shitty pants, and your button ups...I never woulda mistook you for your brother.”

 

“I’m sorry,” Jimmy whimpered. “I’m sorry-”

 

“Shut up.” Dean stood and went to the bathroom to take a piss. He wasn’t sure how he wanted to kill Jimmy; he was either going to strangle him or cut him open like a pinata. Of course, if they cut him open, they wouldn’t be able to clean up the room. Maybe, they’d have to kill him in the bathroom; at least then, they could clean out the shower easily enough.

 

“...Dean?” Jimmy called timidly.

 

Dean groaned and gave his hands a quick wash before coming out. “What?”

 

Jimmy was trying to sit up, but he was stuck lying on his back, his hands still over his hand. “If you...if you let me go, I’ll-I’ll tell you where to find Cas-”

 

“Wow, what a douchebag _you_ are,” Dean replied with a smirk. “Giving up your twin so you can lie, huh?”

 

Jimmy swallowed nervously and nodded. “Please let me go, please don’t kill me. I don’t wanna die-I-I’m going to Yale in September. Please-please let me go-”

 

“Sorry Sweetheart, guess you came to the wrong sandwich shop.” When Jimmy started to cry, Dean walked over and smacked his head against the A/C to shut him up. The only sound in the room after was the humming of the unit. All he had to do now, was wait for Sam to come back, and stop being a cranky brat so they could finish the job. Then, they would leave this motel behind and find a new one to crash in.

 

There was something buzzing. Dean frowned and leaned down to snatch up Jimmy’s pants from Sam’s bag. There was a cellphone in his pocket, and on the screen was a little green message that read ❤Castiel❤: _Jimmy where are you? It’s late._

 

Dean couldn’t help but smirk as he set the phone down. He would have to find out the passcode from Jimmy before he killed him, so he could find a way to meet up with Castiel face to face. A few minutes later and there was another message from Castiel:

 

_Call me. Please. I’m really worried. Benny said you weren’t at the restaurant. Jimmy, call me asap._

 

Dean looked up at Jimmy, tempted to wake him up. Moving his booted toe over, Dean nudged the kid’s leg. “Hey. Wake up. You gotta text your brother.” There was no response from him and Dean rolled his eyes. He nudged Jimmy again, and then again, and then finally Dean tossed the phone aside and slid onto the floor with him, to check for a pulse. Perhaps he had smacked the kid’s head harder than he had realized. For a moment, Dean felt nothing, and a great wash of disappointment flooded over him, but then he pressed a little harder, and felt the lightest of thumping against his fingers.

 

The sound of the door opening drew him from Jimmy to glance over his shoulder as Sam walked in, bag in hand. “You still pissed off?” Sam asked icily.

 

Dean gave Sam some puppy eyes. “Sorry Sammy,” he replied. “I was a jerk, I know. I’m sorry. You get something to eat?”

 

“Yes,” Sam replied as he walked over. “Did you kill him already?”

 

“No. I thought I did on accident. Can you crack this phone?” Dean gestured at the cellphone on the bed. “It’s got a passcode.”

 

“Yeah,” Sam replied without even looking. “They’re not hard to crack.”

 

“Sweet. Help me carry him into the bathroom then.” Dean cut the ties off of Jimmy’s wrists and grabbed his arms, while Sam headed over to grab his ankles, and together they carted Jimmy’s unconscious body to settle in the small bathtub shower.

 

“How do you wanna do it?” Sam asked him quietly.

 

Dean stared down at Jimmy and tilted his head to one side. Usually, he was more creative than this, but all he could think to do was cut the kid’s throat and let him bleed out into the tub. He knelt and grabbed Jimmy’s hair to tilt his head back, and watched as the blue eyes flew open. “Scream, and I’ll make it hurt,” Dean replied before the kid could make a sound.

 

The smell of urine filled the room and Dean placed his blade along Jimmy’s tanned neck. Before the kid could bring himself to scream, he dug the blade through his flesh like butter, cutting him deep enough the blood spurted and decorated Dean’s face, his hands, arms, clothing, and the walls of the shower. Jimmy’s body twitched and jerked as he choked on his own blood, the jugular cut and making him bleed out quickly in a dark flow of crimson. The blood was so thick and hot, it looked almost purple in coloration, and Dean felt his dick harden in his jeans as the blood covered his hands.

 

“Sam,” he said, his voice on the edge of being full of lust.

 

“You want me to get you off Dean?” Sam whispered, slowly kneeling down next to him, his hand coming around to squeeze Dean’s erection through the denim. “Right here?”

 

Dean stared at Jimmy, his body turning about as white as the tile and veneer of the bathtub. He was dead by now, and his body was covered in a crimson stain, as if someone had dumped a gallon of red paint all over his body. His cock throbbed so strongly; the blood had rushed from his head to his loins, and all he wanted to do was whip it out, and let Sam jerk him to a finish. “Yeah,” he finally whispered, completely breathless.

 

The classic sound of the teeth of a zipper releasing made Dean glance down, as Sam’s hand fished his cock from his underwear. A lump filled in his throat as he turned his eyes back on Jimmy. They had never had sex with a body in the same room before, this was a whole new experience. Dean grunted as Sam’s calloused hand wrapped around him and began to stroke in firm and quick movements. Dean’s hands gripped the side of the bathtub tightly; precome came to his tip quickly and soon Dean could hear the slickness of Sam working it down onto his shaft.

 

The heat in his belly grew intense and tight, and finally Dean felt a groan escape him. Jimmy’s unseeing eyes, glazed over, and so damn blue were making him so horny. “Faster,” he hissed, to which Sam obliged him.  “Yeah-yeah-fuck-yeah-”

 

Sam panted and pressed a kiss to the side of Dean’s face. “I love you Dean.”

 

Dean nodded numbly, his mouth hanging open. “Sammy, I’m gonna come-”

 

“Good. Come on my hands Dean.” Sam nibbled against Dean’s ear lobe.

 

Dean whimpered as he felt his cock jerk, and soon he was coming hot and thick all over Sammy’s hand. He cursed God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit in one breath as he finished, his head falling back, and eyes fluttering shut. He heard Sammy whimper in response, and he knew that his little brother had made a mess in his boxers. A small smile flitted across Dean’s face as his orgasm ebbed away, and he could feel himself breathe again.

 

“You feel better?” Sam whispered in his ear.

 

Dean nodded. “Yeah baby,” he whispered back. “We still got bags in the car?”

 

“Yeah,” Sam replied as he nuzzled the side of Dean’s face.

 

“Can you go get ‘em? We gotta get him out of here. I’ll clean up.”

 

“Okay,” Sam replied before slowly getting up. “Only if you fuck me before we leave.”

 

Dean slid his hand up Sammy’s leg to rest along his hip reassuringly. “Of course baby, you took care of me, I’ll take care of you.”

 

Sam flashed him a coy and boyish smile before making sure he was clean of blood and walking out of the room to go and retrieve the black trash bags. Once Sam was gone, Dean reached over to turn the shower on, watching as the blood slowly began to run down the drain. There was a lot of blood, and Dean’s hands were coated with the sticky heat. He would have to take extra care to wash under his nails tonight, or he and Sam wouldn’t be able to walk out without some strange stares. He turned cold eyes back on Jimmy as the blood washed away from him, his red smile turning pink and then pale like the rest of his flesh. There was more buzzing from the other room.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

May 15, 2014

9:14 A.M.

 

Henriksen stared down at the boy’s body, as Garth kneeled next to him and examined the cut on his throat. “How long’s he been dead?”

 

Garth glanced up and shrugged. “My best guess? Two weeks.”

 

He could only shake his head and turn to look around at the desert. The kid’s clothes were missing, he had no ID on him, and while he had not been stabbed to death, his death did seem fairly brutal. “You think it’s the same guy?”

 

Garth nodded. “He’s been raped for sure.”

 

Henriksen felt his fists curl so hard that his palms ached from the pressure. The son of a bitch was always three steps ahead of theirs, and he was sick and tired of chasing his tail. “Fucking-....Let me know when you get something new.”

 

“Will do!” Garth gave Henriksen a salute before he walked away, back towards the cars and tape line.

 

The press would arrive soon and he knew he was going to have to make some sort of statement, but they needed to take the boy back to the coroner’s office, so they could run dental records on him. He was going to have to inform this boy’s family that he was dead, and he had probably joined a string of bodies dropping like flies across the country. This boy was younger than the other victims, which was the only reason that Henriksen was somewhat doubtful on this being the same man. Perhaps this was just a random act of violence, or perhaps the killer had slipped up and left some DNA on the kid’s body somewhere. Anywhere.

 

They needed a break in this case, or Henriksen had a feeling it was going to run cold. This guy was too smart, too calculating, and too _good_ at killing people. It was almost as if he had somehow made it his career. Maybe he had; maybe the guy considered killing his calling, and he had made it into a sick, and twisted art form. He could only hope that this boy, and all of the other victims, found some justice soon.

 

\--

 

The doorbell was ringing.

The clock read half past four in the morning.

 

Castiel groaned and buried his head beneath his pillow. Who the hell was at their door at four-thirty in the morning? Was it Jimmy? Castiel sat up quickly and jumped out of bed so he could run to the top of the stairs. His mother’s scream made his heart pound heavily in his chest, and his hands were shaking when he opened the door. Jimmy was dead, he could feel it in the emptiness he felt in his soul. He usually knew when Jimmy was around, it was some weird twin connection they had.

 

Someone was standing in the doorway, and Castiel could make out a deep voice resonating, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying. His legs felt like jelly as he walked down the stairs, where his mother was weeping, her hands over her mouth. The source of the deep voice was a cop, his face as still and unbiased as possible.

 

“Mom?” he asked slowly, his voice wavering on unshed tears.

 

“Oh-Castiel-...oh..oh honey-” His mother reached for him, but he remained on the last step.

 

“Where’s Jimmy?” he whispered. His mother went to speak again but she couldn’t, so Castiel turned his eyes on the man at the door. “Where’s my brother?”

 

“I’m sorry, but we found him yesterday morning. Our coroner just identified his dental records...as James Novak. My deepest apologies. I know it’s late, but if I could ask you a few questions, Ms. Novak-”

 

“You just told me my _son_ is dead, and now you want to ask me questions?!”

 

“I’m sorry ma’am, it’s just, we’re hoping to gather a case against your son’s-”

 

“Get off of my porch. You will give my family time to grieve, and _only then_ can you come back and ask me questions. Please. Just, please leave.” His mother shut the door before the man could protest and then she turned hurt eyes on him. “Oh Castiel-” she whimpered.

 

He stared back at his mother, his face unreadable. She had never really shown him or Jimmy affection their entire lives, but here she was sobbing over her dead son. He couldn’t even bring himself to cry, his eyes were completely dry. Jimmy was dead, he had been murdered by someone, which made sense. Jimmy had never responded to his text messages that night. He should have went after him, he should have found Jimmy himself.

 

“Honey-”

 

Castiel shook his head and turned to run up the stairs. He could hear his mother calling after him, but he ignored her. She had never cared about them before, not until Jimmy was dead and couldn’t even appreciate the mourning. Anger filled him soon after, and he could feel his hands shaking. Leaving seemed like a great option, especially after he heard his mother’s door shut again. He could leave, right then he could pack his bags and leave. His hands shook as he grabbed a backpack from his closet and began to stuff it full of clothing, and money. He had a lot of cash saved up from needing to fuel his bad recreational habits. Lastly, Castiel took a picture of himself and Jimmy from a picture frame, and carefully put it into an inner pocket of his backpack.

 

The tears came then. They filled his eyes so suddenly that he practically went blind in the darkness of his room. Jimmy was _dead_ ; his other half was just gone, ripped from the world as if by some cruel, cosmic joke. His brother had always been there for him; from the womb up until two weeks ago, and now he was just gone. Forever. There was no bringing the dead back to life, this was not an episode of Paranormal. Shaking his head and wiping the tears away, Castiel slid his converses on his feet and slowly snuck down the hallway to Jimmy’s room to collect anything he wanted of Jimmy’s before his mother locked it all up.

 

He ended up taking Jimmy’s favorite tan trench coat, which Castiel had always made fun of him for, but he even put it on now, wanting to honor his brother. Lastly, he snatched up Jimmy’s phone charger, since he had been borrowing Jimmy’s since his had broken a few weeks ago. Castiel paused at the door; his brother’s bed would forever be empty but that did not stop him from walking back to pick up Jimmy’s pillow to breathe in Jimmy’s smell one more time.

 

Shampoo: rainforest.

Cologne: Ralph Lauren.

Earth.

Grass.

 

Those were the scents of his twin; he would do his best to never forget them. Swallowing a lump that felt more like a goose egg lodged in his throat than anything, Castiel dropped Jimmy’s pillow back on his bed and quickly walked out of the room. The dawn was coming quickly, so he had to take off now before his mother caught him. He didn’t have his own car; his mother had promised to buy them cars for their graduation gifts, but they were not going to make it to graduation, and Jimmy was not going to make it to Yale in the fall.

 

So, Castiel took out his bike that he hardly used anymore and unlocked it, shoving the chain, lock, and key into his backpack before taking off down his driveway. He wasn’t even sure where he was going, but he wanted to put as much distance between himself and the house as quickly as possible. Perhaps he would go to Malibu; Jimmy had always loved Malibu. Once he got there, he wasn’t even sure what he was going to do, but that didn’t matter anymore. Nothing really mattered anymore. Jimmy was dead, and there was no bringing him back.

 

He didn’t see the black, Chevy 1967 Impala follow him.

 

\--

 

“You can’t just snatch him out of  the diner.”

 

Dean waved a hand at Sam in dismissal, his sharp eyes trained on Castiel where he was sitting in a diner, shoulders hunched over his meal. The kid had ended up not far from his home, and Dean was ready to walk in and charm him a ride.

 

“Dean-”

 

“I got it Sammy,” he snapped defensively as he climbed out of the car. The sky was overcast today, and the heat had died slightly for the day, which Dean figured was uncharacteristic of L.A. but he wasn’t going to complain either. The diner’s bell tinkled lightly when he walked in, and a nice waitress greeted him, telling him to sit wherever he liked. Dean walked slowly over to Castiel’s table, purposefully ramming his hip into it. “Shit-sorry-”

 

Castiel looked up at him, his blue eyes rimmed in red as if he had been crying. “It’s okay-I...I know you.”

 

“You’re the kid from McDonald’s, aren’t you?” Dean offered up his charming smile before sinking down across from him without being invited.

 

Castiel nodded slowly. “Yeah, you’re that guy…”

 

Dean offered his hand over. “Dean Winchester.”

 

Castiel’s eyes filled with doubt, but slowly he accepted the handshake. “Castiel.”

 

“Nice to meet you Castiel. You look lost, you lost?” Dean glanced down at Castiel’s bag which rested on the floor next to his seat. “You need a ride?”

 

The boy swallowed and glanced back down at the breakfast he had hardly touched. “I’m on my way to Malibu.”

 

“Malibu? What’s in Malibu?”

 

Castiel shrugged. “Nothing.”

 

Dean nodded. “Sounds boring.” Leaning forward, he placed his chin in his hand and continued to give Castiel a kind smile. “I saw the paper this morning...sorry to hear about your brother.”

 

Castiel flinched and glanced up at him again, his eyes were now dangerously wet. “Yeah...that’s why I’m leaving.”

 

“My brother and I are headed outta here. I could give you a ride, if you like.” He could see the wheels turning in Castiel’s mind, as he considered Dean’s offer. A few more smiles, some compliments sprinkled in here and there, and he would have him. “Young thing like you shouldn’t travel all by yourself anyway. Not with that killer on the loose.”

 

Castiel glanced around the diner, as if he were looking for a way out, before turning his eyes back on Dean. Watching him, made Dean feel powerful and excited; Castiel was like the young fawn about to be caught by wolves. It was truly thrilling. “Okay,” he finally whispered. “I’ll go with you.”

 

“Great. You can finish eating if you-”

 

“I’m done.” Castiel pulled out some cash from his coat’s pocket, lying it on the table. His hands were shaking, Dean noted.

 

Slowly, Dean stood and glanced at Sam through the diner’s window. When Castiel bent to grab his bag, he nodded once at Sam and then slid an arm around Castiel’s thin shoulders on their way out. “I’ll take care of you, baby,” he promised.

 

“Where are we going?” Castiel asked as Dean led him to Baby.

 

“I dunno yet,” Dean replied before opening Castiel’s door for him. “That’s Sam, my brother.”

 

Sam turned and nodded at Castiel. “Nice to meet you.”

 

“I’m Castiel,” the boy replied quietly, his voice on the edge of nervousness.

 

Once the diner was behind them, and they were back on the road, Dean realized that staying in L.A. would be out of the question, not with Castiel’s mother probably reporting him to the police soon enough. One twin dead, the other missing, would surely make headline news. Dean almost laughed out loud at the prospect, but he bit back his laughter; Castiel didn’t need to know he was a bit unhinged just yet.

 

“I think we should go back South again,” Dean replied casually. “Mississippi is calling my name, Sammy.”

 

“Sure,” Sam replied as if it did not bother him either way.

 

“Sound good to you, sweetheart?” he asked Castiel casually, flicking his gaze to the boy in the rearview mirror. When Castiel shrugged, Dean’s grin widened. “Mississippi it is, baby.”

 

The radio was playing Highway to Hell, which Dean found quite ironic, but he began to sing along anyway. If they were going anywhere, Dean knew sure as day that they would be going straight to Hell with smiles on their faces. Dean just hoped that when he arrived he could greet the Devil and shake his hand.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: rape

Dean was in a dark mood. Even Sam was having a hard time placating his brother, Castiel noted as he sat on the hotel bedspread, legs crossed. He was hungry, but he hadn’t brought this to either Sam’s or Dean’s attention yet, especially since Dean was in a horrid mood. He had disappeared into the bathroom with Sam, so Castiel turned his eyes back to the television where he had been watching the news. They were having trouble traveling because his face was all over every news station. They had arrived in Texas a few hours ago, and Dean had found the shadiest hotel in the middle of the desert; the shadier the hotel, the less likely they were to question why two twenty-year old men had a minor with them.

 

His stomach growled relentlessly and Castiel whined slightly. He wanted to get something to eat, but Dean had taken all of his cash away once they had reached Arizona. That probably should have been a sign, but Castiel knew that he was a burden on them. His money would only help, really. Eventually, Sam came out of the bathroom with an apologetic smile. Castiel stared at him, feeling timid, and small. Dean, when angry, was absolutely terrifying.

 

“Sorry Cas,” Sam said. “He’s just...itching right now.”

 

“Itching?” Castiel asked slowly. What did that mean? He had a feeling it was nothing good.

 

“Um yeah...you’ll see later, It’ll be okay.” Sam bent down to dig around in his bag.

 

“I’m hungry,” Castiel whispered. Sam was a little nicer than Dean; he had learned quickly, that despite Dean’s charm, his temper was on a short fuse, and he had been on the wrong end of it a few times now. He still had bruises on his ribs from where Dean had punched him a few nights ago.

 

Sam glanced up dropping whatever was in his hands so he could stand up again. “You’re hungry?”

 

He nodded slightly. “I’m sorry,” he whispered automatically. Apologies slipped from his lips like prayers these days; he wasn’t sure if Sam had the same temper, but he did not want to tempt fate.

 

“Oh-oh it’s okay.” Sam smiled and bent back down to dig around once again. When he stood up, he had a granola bar in his hand. “Here. Until we get dinner. Is that okay?”

 

Snatching seemed rude but Castiel took the bar as fast as he could; the foil wrapper he tore with his teeth to get at the snack. It was better than the nothing he had had in the past forty-eight hours. “Thank you,” he mumbled through chewing.

 

“Yeah, no problem.” Sam walked back over to the bathroom to knock on the door and speak softly to Dean through it.

 

Castiel watched with curiosity; Dean and Sam’s relationship was by far the strangest sibling relationship he had ever seen before in his life. When Dean was angry, only Sam could placate him with soft words and touches to his back, his neck, and shoulders. They were intimate in ways that brothers shouldn’t have been, but Castiel was not going to judge them. If he did judge them, he worried about the consequences, and he was not in the right circumstances to be calling judgments on people anyway. Eventually, the door opened and Sam stepped inside, shutting the door firmly soon after.

 

Once again, Castiel turned his eyes back to the television, which kept going in and out. The picture was fuzzy, but he supposed that it could be worse. They were supposed to be traveling again soon, but Sam had insisted that they rest before they head out onto the road again, since Dean had not been getting much sleep lately. There was only one bed, and Castiel had a feeling he would find himself on the floor tonight, if Dean’s sour mood persisted. When they had first started out, Dean had been kind to him, offering him smiles, charms, and kind words, but after a few days, his true nature had been unveiled: Dean was as mean as they come, with violent tendencies.

 

Castiel regretted joining them on their road trip to Mississippi.

 

Desperation made him lick the crumbs from his fingers and the wrapper before leaning over to settle the wrapper into the small trashcan next to the bed. He startled when there was a loud yell and then Sam was leaving the bathroom again, his nose bloody, and tears on his face. Dean came out after him, even as Sam was walking out of the hotel door to go to the parking lot. Castiel tried not to stare, since Dean didn’t like being stared at, but it was too late and Dean was walking over to him, his eyes dark in anger.

 

“What the hell are you staring at?!” Dean demanded of him viciously. “Huh?!”

 

“I’m sorry,” Castiel said immediately.

 

“Yeah, you should be. You’ve been fuckin’ causin’ us trouble since the day you came with us, you piece of shit-”

 

Castiel stared at Dean in terror, his heart and mind racing. “I didn’t mean to,” he said quickly. “I’ll-I’ll be better. I promise.”

 

Dean paused in his rage, his head tilting in curiosity, even as his hands reached for his belt, unbuckling it. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice losing some of his anger, but Castiel still did not like his tone. “You’re damn right you will.”

 

“I’m really sorry Dean,” he whispered. He watched as Dean unbuttoned and unzipped his fly, pulling his cock out and giving it a few tugs until it was hard. He looked up at Dean shyly and demurely; they had not done anything sexual yet, but he had been waiting for Dean to ask. He had just hoped Dean would _ask_ and not force him, but since he was afraid that Dean was going to beat him up, he would rather suck his cock then be beaten up.

 

“Go on,” Dean replied, gesturing at himself. “It ain’t gonna suck itself, sweetheart.”

 

Castiel nodded, moving to sit at the end of the bed, taking Dean’s shaft in one hand before running his tongue up along the vein to the head and slit. When he heard Dean sigh in content, Castiel relaxed. Dean was not going to hit him or force him down his cock, he was going to let Castiel take his time with him. He glanced up at Dean again as he wrapped his mouth around him, sucking lightly. Dean was an attractive man, and Castiel had been thinking about him since they had left Los Angeles. He had been hoping to have sex with him, even if the circumstances were not ideal.

 

Making soft, needy noises, Castiel started to work Dean’s shaft further into his mouth, not taking too much in at once. Dean groaned, his fingers settling in Castiel’s hair, but he did not force Castiel down his length; he tugged lightly and then pet his hair instead. Dean was well endowed, his cock thick; Castiel liked men with wide girths, they filled him more easily and he could usually leave someone’s bed feeling satisfied. He could taste the salt of Dean’s precome, and he sucked harder at the taste, sliding his tongue along the head.

 

“Fuck-” Dean breathed. “You’re good at this, baby.”

 

Castiel pulled back enough so he could stroke Dean with two hands and work the head with his mouth. Dean whimpered and moaned, as his cock began to blush vermillion, and he grew more and more sensitive. Dean’s breathing grew labored as Castiel continued to only lick, nibble, and suck at the tip and slit of his cock; it wasn’t long before Dean gasped and Castiel had cum along his chin and lips. There was so much that he had to cup a hand beneath his chin to catch the hot splooge.

 

“Fuck yeah Cas,” Dean growled. “Eat it up baby.”

 

Castiel gave Dean a slight smile before licking up the mess from his palm and lips. He tasted somewhat bitter, but Dean did tend to shovel his face full of cheap food. The taste would have to be an acquired one, if this continued. “Mmmm,” he moaned. “You taste good.”

 

A lop sided grin filled Dean’s face, and he nodded. “I gotta go talk to Sammy. You stay here and be good, ya hear?” There was more hair petting. “You want something special to eat?”

 

At the mention of food, Castiel could feel his mouth watering. “Whatever you want, as long as there is lots.”

 

Dean laughed and ruffled his hair. “Sure thing, sweetheart. I’ll be back. Don’t leave this room.”

 

He nodded, and then Dean was walking out, the door shutting heavily after him. Once Dean was gone, Castiel relaxed. He had been able to placate Dean with sex; he would have to remember that.

 

\--

 

“You still pissed at me?” Dean glanced at Sam as his younger brother sulked outside of the room on the hood of the Impala.

 

“Well Dean, you fucking hit me,” Sam snapped back his response. “I was just trying to help, make _you_ feel better, and you just fucking went off and hit me.”

 

Dean bit his lip and slowly sank down next to Sam on the car. “I’m sorry Sammy. I didn’t mean it. I just-I was mad. I’ve been itching, Sammy. I need to scratch that itch, but we haven’t been able to with Mr. Most Wanted in there.”

 

A warm breeze kissed the side of Sam’s face, ruffling his long hair back. Dean watched some finer hairs tickle along Sam’s cheek, and he couldn’t stop himself from reaching over to tuck the hair behind Sam’s ear. The kind gesture made Sam’s cheeks flush pink, and finally a smile slid across his brother’s face.

 

“There’s that smile I love,” Dean cooed. He slung an arm around Sam’s shoulders to pull him close. “I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry I hit you. I was a jerk, I know. I know I’ve been a total douchebag, I’m so sorry. Can I make it up to you? You want something special tonight?”

 

Sam looked over at Dean and his smile grew ever so slightly, before he pressed a light kiss to Dean’s plump lips. Sam could taste the gunpowder on Dean’s mouth, and he knew if he licked his way inside, he would probably taste a hint of iron and beer. The weak sunlight glinted through the clouds, catching Dean’s hair aflame for a few brief moments. Sam smiled more. “Yeah,” he whispered.

 

“You wanna pick then? I’ll take what you pick, baby.” Dean kissed Sam again, this time more urgent and needy about the gesture. Sam’s lips were pliant beneath his, and Dean was able to slide his tongue inside easily. “You taste like candy.”

 

Sam blushed and nipped at Dean’s bottom lip. “You taste like gunpowder and beer.”

 

The older Winchester smirked his classic smile, the side of his mouth coming up in pure amusement. “Two of my favorite things, baby. Now, what do you want tonight? Blonde? Brunette? Blue eyes? Green eyes? Gray eyes?”

 

Sam shrugged his shoulders, the fabric of his plaid shirt shifting at the movement. “I don’t know. I think it’ll depend on my mood. I do know that I want you, bad.”

 

“Bad, huh?” Dean felt amusement and excitement fill him. Sammy wanting him always put a rush of adrenaline in his system; Sam was like crack cocaine. Addictive and energizing. Sam was like caffeine in his veins, a drug he could not seem to give up. “I’ll have to take care of that then, now won’t I?”

 

“Tonight,” Sam whispered against Dean’s lips. “Promise me.”

 

He nodded. “Tonight, baby. I promise.”

 

\--

 

Muffled voices were coming through the slightly open motel room window, just enough that they made Castiel sit up sleepily. A loud noise made him startle and yank the covers up to his chin. Dean and Sam had been out since dinner and they had told him not to wait up, so he had gone to sleep a few hours ago. The lock of the door seemed to unlock comically slow, and then the Winchesters were bursting through the door, a man with them.

 

“Turn on the light,” Dean was saying, so Sam quickly walked over to turn the switch on the lamp. The room flooded with amber, Tungsten light, and Castiel had to blink a few times to adjust. “Morning Sunshine.”

 

Castiel wiped his eyes and ran his fingers through his already mussed hair. He watched as Dean tossed the man onto the bed next to Castiel. The man seemed intoxicated, and he had a bloody lip; he did not have to ask who had done those things to the stranger. Dean’s knuckles were bloody and he had rage in his eyes, there was no mistake that Dean was the cause of the man’s injury.

 

“What’s going on?” Castiel dared to ask quietly.

 

“You’ll see soon enough,” Dean replied. “Sammy, tie him up.”

 

“Wait-wh-” Castiel panicked, trying to scoot back, but relief flooded him when he saw Sam tie up the stranger, who was weakly protesting the restraint. He didn’t necessarily want the stranger to be tied up, but also didn’t want to be in his place, so Castiel remained silent, his back pressed up against the headboard of the bed.

 

“Thank you, Sammy,” Dean said.

 

“No problem.” Sam smiled back at Dean and Castiel watched as Dean slid his hand down to unbuckle his belt slowly. “What do you want me to do first, Dean?”

 

Dean smiled and continued to undo his fly, pushing his jeans and underwear down and off. He kicked them aside, struggling slightly since he still had his boots on. A few pumps of his wrist, and Dean was soon holding his hardened cock in his hand loosely. “Suck my cock, Sammy. Please.”

 

When Sam nodded, Castiel blinked in surprise. His shock only grew when Sam stood up, walked over, and knelt down in front of his brother, seemingly to give him oral sex. The sounds Dean began to make, made Castiel’s groin ache with want and need; he knew that he shouldn’t be turned on by Sam getting Dean off, but he was. The pleasure he felt in his cock began to become demanding and insistent.

 

“Oh _yeah_ Sammy, you’re doin’ so good, baby,” Dean praised, his hand going down to Sam’s hair to pull and pet. “Suck that cock, baby.”

 

Castiel’s breath hitched dangerously and then he turned his eyes on the man, who was also watching, and whimpering. Clearly, they were both aroused by the brother’s behavior. Maybe that was Dean’s plan; perhaps he wanted some weird sex orgy. Maybe that was the itch that Sam had been talking about earlier.

 

“You like watchin’ Cas?” Dean asked him. “You like watchin’ me?”

 

“Yes,” Castiel admitted quietly.

 

Dean smirked, his eyes full of pure, dark amusement. “Good. You’ll love what’s next then- _ah_ -” Dean cried out a little louder and then Sam was pulling away and Dean’s cock was sagging a bit. A quick smile flashed across Dean’s face, before he walked over to the man on the bed with Castiel. “Sammy-”

 

“Way ahead of you,” Sam replied, placing a knife in Dean’s hand.

 

“So smart.” Dean grinned.

 

The gesture was so simple, and Castiel could practically see the evil seep out of him, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away. When the man saw the knife, he went to scream but Sam clamped a hand over his mouth, while Dean began to cut his clothes off of his body. Castiel could only watch in shock and awe as the man became more and more naked. Before long, he was completely nude, his body shaking in fear.  

 

“Gag him Sammy,” Dean commanded, and Sam was quick to obey. Castiel watched as Sam pulled out a sock, which he stuffed down the man’s throat to silence him; he was almost not sure where to watch, since Dean was now spreading the man’s legs, holding him still, even as he struggled. “Hold still, you piece of-” Dean snarled and then cut the man deeply in the thigh, which made him scream against his gag, but he stopped trying to kick Dean as well.

 

Dean was quick to overpower him and Castiel watched in horror as he began to fuck the man on the bed, despite his whimpers and tears. Sam was standing by the man’s head, to keep his upper body still and the restraints tight. The bed rocked and squeaked as Dean pounded into the man eagerly. Castiel remained on the bed, his eyes wide, and jaw open in wonder. Watching Dean be in command was extremely arousing, and then when the Winchesters exchanged a needy kiss above the stranger, Castiel felt his cock throb. More than once, he had thought on Jimmy in a non-brotherly way, but this was real life, and these were real brothers were romantically and sexually involved with one another.

 

“Fuck he’s tight, Sammy,” Dean growled. The elder Winchester slowed his hips, before he began to grind against the man, his breathing hard and labored. “Jesus-”

 

Sam whimpered. “I want you in me,” he said immediately.

 

“Soon baby, soon. I promise-you want a turn?” Dean asked, slowly pulling out, his cock weeping precome.

 

“No. No, you finish him, and then take me-” Sam’s voice ended on a pleading whine.

 

“Okay baby, okay.” Dean was back in and going at it, fucking and rutting himself until he came, his eyelids fluttering shut. Once Dean was done, Castiel waited for Dean and Sam to start making out, or doing anything that involved sex on each other, but instead, Dean picked up his knife again. The blade was still tinged crimson with the previous cut Dean had dealt earlier. He startled when Dean brought the blade down into the man’s abdomen, stabbing him through as if he were made of soft cheese. The first stab brought on another, and another, and another, until Dean was stabbing the man in such frenzy that it became more of a brutal hacking more than anything else.

 

Sam was watching, his mouth open, and he was practically drooling on himself. “Dean-hurry-” he whimpered.

 

Castiel’s eyes were so wide that he could not open them any further. There was so much blood; blood on the bed, the walls, the knife, Dean, Sam, and Castiel noted when it was all over, that he too had blood splattered on his legs and clothing. There was a dead man on the bed, his eyes open to the ceiling, unseeing, and now Sam was crawling to straddle the man’s abdomen so he could kiss Dean, mouth open and eager. The brothers were going to sit on the edge of the bed together, and Sam was straddling Dean’s thighs. He heard Sam moan and then Dean was thrusting again, slow and tender at first.

 

They were going to have sex in the same room as the body. They were going to fuck out their blood lust. Castiel felt his stomach churn, but in the same breath, he felt oddly alive, and aroused. Dean was strong, domineering, terrifying, and powerful; he was the most insane man Castiel had ever seen, but he wanted to be with Dean anyway. If he were with Dean, perhaps Dean would love him, and protect him. If he were with Dean, he hoped that he would never end up on the opposite end of Dean’s knife.

 

The breathing and panting grew more intense as Dean and Sam fucked, growing more heightened and desperate. The bed rocked dangerously and Castiel started to wonder on how they were going to clean up this mess. Of course, they had paid for the room in cash; perhaps they were going to leave the man behind without another word. When Sam came, Castiel whimpered, which made Dean look at him, his eyes flashing in amusement.

 

“You wanna fuck too, Cas?” Dean asked slowly, his voice low and dangerous.

 

Castiel whimpered again. He wasn’t trying to sound pathetic and needy, but he felt pathetic and needy. “Yeah,” he whispered.

 

Dean smirked and helped Sam lie back on the bed and then he had his arms out. Castiel didn’t feel himself move, but he soon found himself in Dean’s arms, their mouths pressed together. Calloused hands were running up under his shorts and pulling them down just enough for Dean to push in; the pain made Castiel’s eyes water, but he wanted the burn. He wanted to feel something and forget that there was a dead body on the bed. He cried out louder than Sam as Dean nailed into him over and over, his eyes glassy.

 

“You like that, don’t you? Fuckin’ slut,” Dean growled, his fingers gripping Castiel’s hair and pulling his neck back.

 

“Uh-huh,” Castiel agreed as Dean continued to fuck him. “Uh-huh-”

 

Dean laughed. “God, your ass is good-”

 

“Yeah-yeah-” Castiel panted and whimpered desperately. He could feel the heat in his belly ready to pool out; he was soon coming all over himself and Dean, which he could only hope would not anger Dean further.

 

Dean grunted and then Castiel could feel Dean’s seed emptying inside him. “So good, baby,” Dean praised afterwards when they were trying to catch their breaths. “So good.”

 

Castiel whimpered and nodded. “Yeah,” he whispered.

 

Dean licked his lips and glanced at the body. “Go take a shower Cas, Sammy and I got this.”

 

“Okay Dean,” he replied. Dean let him up, and Castiel walked his way back to the bathroom, shutting the door firmly. Once the fan was going, he could not make out what Dean was saying to Sam, and Castiel was all the happier for it. He didn’t want to know what was happening out there; he didn’t need to know either. The water came out cold, but Castiel was happy for it; the shock of the water made him jerk and his stomach twisted. He was going to throw up.

  
Dean had killed a man after raping him, and then he and Sam had had sex...and then Dean had fucked him too. He had let Dean fuck him with a dead body in the same room. Acid burned his throat and Castiel tried to fight the urge, but soon he was retching in the shower’s drain, his stomach emptying quickly. A sick feeling filled his stomach, and Castiel had a feeling he was not going to walk out of this situation alive.

 


	5. Chapter 5

The heat wave rolled through the Impala and sucked out any cool air from the barely working air conditioning system. Dean hit the dashboard a few times, actually daring to curse his beloved car for not working properly. Mississippi’s heat was almost unbearable, and Dean was starting to miss the dry heat of the desert in Arizona when they had passed through a few days ago. The heat wasn’t just _heat_ , it was sticky too, and Dean had had to shed his jacket to keep from overheating.

 

He felt naked without his jacket.

 

The papers were singing their praises as the cops scrambled to try and find them. After the last body they had dropped, the FBI had decided to declare that there was more than one killer. They were now The Highwaymen. The new developments made Dean smile, but it had been almost two weeks since their last kill, and Dean could feel the itch starting just beneath his skin once again. Of course, Sam would tell him that two weeks was a bit of a stretch, since they had murdered the old man so they could move into his trailer, which was in the middle of the woods and swamp. Dean didn’t count the old man.

 

_“Hold him still damn it!!” Dean gripped the old man’s neck harder, while Sam struggled to hold the man still. For someone who looked as if they were nearing eighty or ninety, he was an extremely strong man. Castiel was in the car still, but Dean ignored the glare of the Impala’s headlights. The air was finally leaving the tennant’s lungs, and the life was seeping right out of his eyes. After what felt like an hour or more, the old man fell limp, and Dean released him from his hands._

 

_He hadn’t strangled a man in a long time; the risk of leaving behind identifiable fingerprints prevented him from being that personal with his victims. But his blood was coursing through his body at a rapid rate, and Dean could hear it rushing in his ears. Sam stood next to him, breathing just as heavily, and Dean could see his little brother’s hands shaking. The older Winchester slowly straightened up and Sam was stepping closer to him, his hand going to rest between Dean’s legs, giving him a squeeze. Sam had tasted like whiskey and sugar._

 

After fucking desperately on the kitchen counters in the trailer, he and Sam had dragged the old man outside, and dumped him in the swamp after weighing him down with rocks. If the FBI did ever find him, they wouldn’t before the gators got to him first; his body would be nearly unrecognizable by the time anyone found him. Afterwards, he and Sam had taken inventory in the trailer. There were two bedrooms inside, one which Dean figured had belonged to the old man and his late wife, from the pictures on the nightstand, and in the other a smaller bed, mostly empty with only a white sheet on top. Together, they had drug the second bed out to the living area of the house and set it against the back wall of the trailer.

 

That was where Dean had started keeping Castiel; after the boy had come inside, Dean had stripped him completely naked, tying a leather collar Dean had bought for this occasion. For the first night, Castiel had not been chained, but after a day, Dean had bolted chains to the wall behind the bed, and Castiel was forced to lie there unless Dean let him up. If the boy behaved, he could get up and stretch his legs, if he didn’t, Dean left him there. Until Castiel learned to be like them, he would be for there for his use. So far, Castiel had proven to be an eager pet, adjusting quickly to being nude twenty-four seven, a spreader bar keeping his ankles apart during the day for when Dean became bored and wanted to fuck.

 

Sam had recently talked Dean into allowing Castiel to be up and about more often than he had been at first, since the boy was starting to develop bedsores. He remembered coming into Sammy helping Castiel sit up, a red angry sore on the boy’s lower back where he had been lying and pressing into the sheet. Dean had felt guilt twinge in his chest at the sight; he hadn’t meant to mar Castiel’s flesh, he was too pretty to mar. That was how he and Sammy had found themselves in a pharmacy unsure of what to buy for him, but the pharmacist had been so kind, showing them different creams to apply to Castiel’s skin, as well as bandages to keep the area covered while it healed. Sam had become Castiel’s nurse ever since the incident.

 

He tried not to become angry with Castiel, but it was easier to be angry with the boy than it was to be angry with Sam, so a lot of Dean’s frustrations came out on Castiel. He threw him around, pressed him hard into the bed while he fucked him open, and gave him purple bruises on his hips, and ribs. He had even gone so far as to restrict Castiel’s diet to keep him thin and svelte. He didn’t need a fat pet, especially since Castiel did not get a lot of physical exercise when Dean wasn’t having sex with him. Despite his annoyances with Castiel at times, Dean had found himself attached to the little brat; deep down, Dean knew that if Castiel were ever in trouble Dean would bend over backwards to help him, just as he would for Sammy. Slowly, but surely, Castiel was becoming a member of Dean’s family. They were broken and odd, but Dean loved his family.

 

Many people in his life had tried to be a part of his family: John Winchester had tried to be his father, but Dean had never considered the drunk to _be_ his father. Killing him had been so easy. One of his elementary school teachers had attempted to be a part of his family too, trying to date his father when Dean had been in the third grade; he hadn’t liked her either. Dean had paid her a visit on his nineteenth birthday; he had told her that they had a date with his pistol. Watching her cry had been so thrilling to him then, he had been so damn aroused. Sammy had begged him to fuck him harder once Dean had come home smelling of blood and gunpowder.

 

His Uncle Bobby had been a part of his family, but the man had died of a heart attack before Dean had turned seventeen. Sometimes, Dean wondered if the deaths of those he love had driven him to this madness. His mother, Mary Winchester, had died in a house fire when he had been only four years old. The police had declared arson, but the crime had never been solved, and Dean still had no idea who had set fire to his house, but he had his guesses. Unfortunately, Dean had never been able to see his mother’s death put to rest, and he had a feeling he never would. Maybe that was what drove him to kill; the people he loved died without his say so, and he had no control over their mortality, but he _could_ have control over other’s mortality. They could die when he said, and they could die how he said.

 

He could be God.

 

_Smoke on the Water_ flooded the Impala and Dean glanced down at his phone which was ringing in the other seat. He didn’t remember putting his phone there but he shrugged before picking it up. “Yeah?”

 

“Dean, it’s Sammy-”

 

“I know, I’ve got caller ID, genius,” he quipped back before Sam could continue, allowing the smile that flicked across his face to fill his voice. “What’s up? Everything okay?”

 

“Not exactly,” Sam replied. There was a crash and Dean frowned. “You need to- _stop Cas_!-get home.”

 

“What the hell’s happening?” he demanded. There was another loud crash, as if glass were breaking.

 

“Cas found Jimmy’s phone.”

 

The line went dead after. The smell of burning rubber could be detected up to fifteen minutes after the Impala had long disappeared down the empty road.

 

\--

 

“Cas-Cas-wait-” Sam ducked as Castiel chucked something else at him, he had honestly lost count of how many things the boy had been tossing as he screamed bloody murder. He was just thankful that they were out in the middle of nowhere, rather than in a hotel. “Cas!”

 

Castiel stared at him, his eyes wild and hurt. “You _killed_ Jimmy!” he screamed. “You were the ones!”

 

Sam went to speak again but the trailer’s door clanging open cut him off, and then there was a blur of dark denim and plaid. Castiel was on his ass before he knew what hit him, Dean stomping hard on his hand to make him drop whatever he had had this time. “Dean stop!!” He didn’t want Dean to hurt Castiel, since the boy had a right to act this way.

 

“He won’t be throwing our shit around again,” Dean growled dangerously but Castiel was quickly crawling backwards, fear in his eyes. “Now, someone tell me what the _fuck_ is going on!”

 

“I found Jimmy’s phone- _you_ had Jimmy’s phone! You killed Jimmy!! Didn’t you?!” Castiel demanded, and Sam had to give the kid some credit, even in the face of Dean’s rage he still managed to sneer.

 

There was some silence, and the two stared at one another, daring the other to blink. Sam wanted to say something, but then Dean was speaking and what he said made Sam do a doubletake. “Yeah,” Dean replied casually, as if Castiel had asked him about dinner or the weather. “We did. Or I did. Sam watched. I slit your brother’s throat, and you know what? I _enjoyed_ it. I loved it so damn much, it made me so fucking hard watching all of his blood pour onto my hands. It made me so horny that Sammy had to get me off, and then my cum and your brother’s blood ran together and it was the hottest thing I’ve ever done. He’d still be alive if he hadn’t pretended to be you, though. So he has no one to blame but himself.”

 

Castiel stared up at Dean as if Lucifer himself had appeared before them and spoken through Dean. “You-how- _why_?!”

 

“I told you,” Dean replied quietly. “He dressed like you, I thought he was you.”

 

“You haven’t killed me,” Castiel whispered.

 

“I never had the intention of killing you, but I killed your idiot brother because he posed as you. Pissed me off, you don’t want to piss me off, Castiel.” Dean’s words hung in the air, and they even made a chill run down Sam’s spine, so he couldn’t begin to imagine how Castiel had to feel. “Now be a good boy, get up, and clean up your mess. After that, you can clean the bathroom. I want it scrubbed so clean that I could eat off of the floor. Got it?”

 

Castiel glared up at Dean, and for a moment Sam worried that he would do something stupid, like defy his brother, but instead Castiel shakily got to his feet and began to pick up the mess in the living room. A breath that he had not even realized he had been holding slid out of his lungs in a soft whoosh. He liked Castiel, and honestly Sam didn’t want to hurt him, at least not more than necessary. Dean’s shoulders were set so strongly that he just knew it would take at least an hour to massage the knots away tonight. Perhaps they would start now while Castiel cleaned.

 

“Dean,” Sam said quietly, his voice tender and loving. If he spoke softly, like one did with a frightened animal, then he could probably coax Dean back into a good mood. “You want me to rub your back?”

 

Dean turned his eyes upon him and Sam felt his jeans tighten. “Sure,” his brother growled, his voice deeper than before.

 

His tongue felt like an oasis when he licked them to moist, before offering a hand to Dean. Together, they walked back to their bedroom, where they had taken over with their belongings. Dean had torn down the pink curtains from the windows, and they had been replaced with dark blue ones they had bought cheap at a small store in town. The pictures of the old man and his wife were all burned up, Dean used them for kindling when he needed to burn garbage; and the bedspread had been replaced with new white sheets, and a comforter that did not have a floral pattern. Beer bottles, whiskey bottles, empty packs of cigarettes, newspaper clippings, and books scattered and covered every available surface that wasn’t the bed. Dean would probably have Castiel clean their bedroom once he finished the bathroom.

 

Sam watched Dean pull his shirt off, gulping when his brother’s muscles rippled, and when he stretched just right Sam could see Dean’s ribs expand when he took a breath. The sight made his cock ache with need; maybe tonight he could coax Dean into tender sex. Once Dean was down to absolutely nothing, he stretched face down on the bed, and Sam slowly sank down next to him on the mattress to start rubbing at the back of Dean’s neck. He was so tense.

 

“You’re too stressed,” Sam chided lightly.

 

“Yeah, well, we’re almost out of cash,” Dean snapped angrily. “We need more money.”

 

“We could go to the strip club in Jackson on Wednesdays. The high rollers go in on Wednesdays,” Sam replied quietly. His hands worked worries out of Dean’s muscles, rubbing his stress away slowly and evenly. After a few deep presses and passes, Sam could feel Dean relaxing inch by inch.

 

“How you know that?” Dean mumbled, his voice growing heavy with sleepiness the more relaxed he became.

 

“Rumor,” Sam said. “I don’t know how true it is, but it’s worth a shot, yeah? If nothing else, you could take a stripper with a bunch of cash. Who’s gonna miss a stripper?”

 

Dean nodded in agreement. “Yeah, you’re right. Smart Sammy.”

 

Sam smirked. “Well, I did graduate high school.” He teased Dean slightly by pinched his butt, and he could hear Dean groan in response. It was soft and tired, not his usual lust filled growl when he was ready to mount him from behind. Dean was content, and that made Sam feel happy. If anyone deserved to be content and happy, it was his brother.

 

“Sam,” Dean grunted.

 

“What?” he asked before sliding his hands up and down Dean’s sides one last time.

 

“Thanks.”

 

He smiled. “You’re welcome. Take a nap. You deserve it. You work _so_ hard.” Sam leaned down to kiss Dean’s temple, and only received a remote noise that could have meant a few different things, so Sam took that as his cue to leave Dean to sleep. Once the door was shut, Sam made his way back to the living room where Castiel was picking up large pieces of glass from where he had thrown a lamp at his head.

 

“Glad your bite is worse than your aim,” he said to Castiel.

 

Castiel did not give him a reply, and simply continued to work at gathering up the glass. Sam sighed and decided to help him, kneeling down on the carpet next to him. “You know, you can sulk all you want, but that won’t bring Jimmy back.”

 

Castiel raised cold blue eyes on him. “I am aware that nothing will bring Jimmy back.”

 

Sam bit his lip. “I’m sorry that he was in the wrong place at the wrong time that night. I wish I could have saved him. It wasn’t completely fair the way Dean killed him.”

 

“The worst part,” Castiel whispered. “Is that I can’t even bring myself to be violent towards him. I-....I _like_ Dean too much. And I’m afraid of him.”

 

“Me too,” Sam whispered back. “If I’m going to be honest, I’m afraid of him too. I would never want to make him so angry that he turns his violence on me. I’m sorry he takes his anger out on you sometimes, I’m trying to break him of that habit. How can he build your trust if he’s constantly hitting you? To gain a dog’s trust and love, you don’t beat them with newspapers or fists.”

 

Castiel frowned but he did not respond. Sam took the glass pieces from Castiel’s hands, tossing them into the trashcan before standing up. The silence continued onward for a while before Castiel stood up and made his way towards the bathroom to start cleaning it as Dean had told him earlier. Maybe Sam was crazy, but perhaps the boy had begun to fall in love with Dean, which Sam counted his lucky stars for. The thought of Castiel killing his brother had always been in the back of his mind, since if anyone had a justifiable reason to kill Dean, it was most definitely Castiel.

 

But so far, Castiel had proven to be an okay pet, and if Sam could get Dean to lighten up on his anger and punishment, then perhaps he would prove to be a great pet soon.

 

\--

 

“You should let him get dressed now again.”

 

Castiel could hear Sam talking quietly to Dean from their room; the house was so silent this morning that it was almost as if they were all in the same room. He couldn’t help but eavesdrop, it would have been impossible not to. Castiel wasn’t sure of the time, but he knew it was long past when he usually made breakfast for the Winchesters. Neither of them had come to let him up, so he was still lying in bed, the collar on his neck chained to the wall, and the spreader keeping his legs open. His hips ached, and he wanted to roll over and curl up into a ball. Sleep was hard when he couldn’t change his position.

 

“Why?” Dean’s voice rumbled.

 

“Because he’s behaved,” Sam replied, as if the answer were so obvious. “Don’t you think he deserves to be treated more like our equal than our animal? He’s not a dog, Dean. He’s a person-”

 

“He’s whatever I say he fucking is,” Dean snapped.

 

“I know-Dean-”

 

Castiel shut his eyes and pretended to be asleep when he heard someone get up and the footsteps were heavily advancing on him. He was certain it was Dean, because he could still hear Sam calling after his brother. Pretending to be tired, Castiel pried his eyes open and flinched when he saw that Dean was standing over him. “Hello,” he whispered. “Do you want breakfast?”

 

Dean glared down at him, as if he were two seconds away from beating the shit out of him, but there was a pause. “What did you say?” he whispered.

 

“Do you want breakfast?” he repeated slowly. “Or something else? I can blow you if you like.”

 

Dean frowned and then Sam was there, his hand going to his brother’s shoulder, but Dean shook him away. “Sammy, get the keys.”

 

Castiel tried to sit up but he couldn’t get enough purchase to do so, and his knees and hips burned with the desire to shut and move. Sam was leaving and then Dean had slid a hand to rub his inner thigh. He whimpered pathetically when Dean’s hand cupped his sac and squeezed gently, before his fingers grazed his perineum. He didn’t know what he had done to win pleasure, but he whimpered anyway, trying to be eager and needy.

 

Dean smiled, almost tenderly, even as he worked a two fingers into him. “There’s my boy,” Dean praised quietly, his fingers going in and out of Castiel slowly. “Good boy.”

 

Castiel moaned, his head falling back as Dean’s fingers worked against his prostate. His cock grew hard quickly, and he could feel the heat build low in his stomach, beneath his belly button. Dean’s fingers dug into him hard and fast, laying into him so wonderfully that Castiel was quickly seeing stars. He was loud and appreciative, until finally he felt his body give in, and the sticky cum was decorating his stomach and chest. Dean’s smile made his heart thump a few time.

 

The familiar sound of keys jingling made him glance down at his feet, and Castiel relaxed when the spreader was removed from his body and he could move his legs; they fell open uselessly at the moment, his orgasm still rolling over him in weak waves. Dean’s lips pressed against his for a brief moment, before another key released his chain from the collar, and then even that was being removed. His neck was red and sore from where he had been chaffed.

 

Dean took a sharp intake of breath at the sight. “Poor thing,” he cooed. “Sammy, go get his lotion.”

 

“Sure Dean.”

 

Castiel slowly sat up, staring at Dean in confusion. He was waiting for something bad to happen; surely Dean could not be doing this out of the goodness of his heart. There had to be a catch, a lesson to be learned somewhere. However, when Sam returned with the lotion, Dean took it and his hands were gentle as he applied it over his sore flesh. He couldn’t help but stare at Dean in true bewilderment. Why was Dean being so nice to him?

 

“There,” Dean said after the last bit of his neck was gently doctored. Another kiss was pressed to Castiel’s lips. “Sammy and I are going to go get you something to wear. Okay?”

 

Castiel tilted his head to the side; he had gotten so used to being naked that he wasn’t even sure he knew what size clothing he wore. “Okay,” he replied back.

 

Dean smiled. A real smile, not one of his angry or fake smiles, but a real happy smile. “You behave, and don’t go too far if you go outside.”

 

“I’m allowed up?”

 

“Yes. Sammy’s right, you’ve been very behaved. You deserve some privileges….but if you mess up, I will take these privileges away, do you understand?” Dean asked sternly.

 

He nodded quickly. The ache in his bladder suddenly became very real, and he couldn’t wait to use the bathroom instead of having to pee in a container or plastic bin like usual. He waited patiently for Dean and Sam to get up, and head for the door. “Can-can I eat?” he asked quickly before they stepped outside. Ever since they had come to the trailer, his food had been constricted, and Castiel had grown used to feeling hungry most of the time.

 

Dean nodded. “You want something special? We’ll bring you something, if you want.”

 

Castiel stared at them as if Dean were God. “Can I have McDonald’s?” He knew that he should have asked for something outlandish, but McDonald’s was the first thing to pop into his head. When Dean nodded, Castiel smiled at him. After the door clanged shut, he flew from the bed and down the hall to use the bathroom. He’d even be able to _shower_. Castiel hummed to himself as he turned the water on, eagerly climbing under the strong stream to wash his body clean; his neck stung under the water but he could at last clean the flesh with soap and a clean rag, which was better than letting it fester beneath a leather collar.

 

Taking his time in the shower, Castiel’s thoughts wandered to Jimmy; his twin was dead because of the man who had just gotten him off. He should be finding a way to avenge Jimmy, but Dean’s odd affection for him made him feel like a starving man; he ached for Dean’s touch, Dean’s kindness, Dean’s lips. He wanted Dean to love and care for him, just as he loved and cared for Sam. The idea of hurting Dean was almost as painful as the idea that Dean had been the one to take Jimmy’s life. He wasn’t even sure how long it had been since Jimmy had died. A month? Four months? A year? He couldn’t remember anymore. Time had bled and blurred in his mind; he wasn’t even sure how long he had been with the Winchesters. Had he had a birthday since he had left his home in L.A.? Had the cops stopped looking for him? Had his mother given up on finding him? Did she even care? Or was she relieved that she no  longer had two extra mouths to feed?

 

The water ran cold before Castiel finally slid out of the shower. He wrapped himself up in a towel and then went to sit on the couch to watch the television. He checked the news station to try and figure out how long it had been since he had left with the Winchesters. He remembered it had only taken them about a week to arrive in Mississippi, but after that things had bled through. Maybe it _had_ been a month; it felt like longer. He felt as if he had been in Dean’s care for a long time. He could barely even recall the memories he had _before_ Dean and Sam. They were like shadows in the recesses of his mind; whispers of his old life, but he had a new life now. A rebirth even.

 

Murder should not have ever been on a list of things he had ever been witness to, let alone something he found arousing. But watching Dean overpower other people made his body tingle with want and need. He would rather have Dean angry at others than at him. The news station flashed his picture, the most recent one his mother had, and he realized that the police were still trying to find him. He even had a reward; two hundred thousand dollars to whomever brought him home alive. He almost laughed; two hundred thousand dollars? That was pocket change to his his mother and her boyfriend. Was that all he was worth? Just two hundred thousand dollars? Castiel changed the channel to something less insulting.

 

He counted the time via episode of Spongebob he had selected on the television; three later and Sam and Dean were finally walking back inside with bags. The most important bag in Castiel’s opinion was the greasy one from McDonald’s. Smiling brightly, Castiel hopped up, allowing the towel to fall away, uncaring of his nudity at this point. “Thank you,” he said sincerely when Sam handed the food over. He had to stop himself from simply tear into the food and devouring it all at once. This had to last, just in case Dean changed his mind about feeding him.

 

“We bought you some clothes,” Dean said, dropping the plastic bags on the table before ruffling Castiel’s hair lightly. “You can get dressed, alright?”

 

Castiel nodded as he chewed the cheeseburger slowly, savoring every moment. “This is good, thank you.”

 

The smile on Dean’s face seemed oddly affectionate. “Yeah...Sammy and I are going out tonight. We want you to come with us.”

 

“Okay,” Castiel said with a returned smile. The fries were like crack; addictive and delicious. “Sure.”

 

“Good.” The affectionate smile twisted slightly and became something darker. “Eat up, Cas. We’ve got some huntin’ to do tonight.”

 

\--

 

Blood smelled like metal.

 

He had never supposed that blood smelled like anything, but it smelled like copper. Pennies. Something. Castiel stared at the red on his hands and then his eyes refocused to the body underneath him. They had lured the young man into the car, and had pulled over to have some fun in the middle of the woods. Castiel didn’t know how old he was, no older than him he supposed, but here Castiel had taken his life. The boy had been so small, and so easy to kill; a runaway.

 

_“Hi.” Castiel smiled at the boy who was sitting next to him at the diner’s counter. “I’m Cas. What’s your name?”_

 

_The boy frowned, as if he wasn’t sure he should be talking back. “Aaaron. I’m Aaron.”_

 

_Castiel’s smile widened. “You look lost.”_

 

_Aaron shrugged. “I’m not lost...just...wandering.” Castiel noted the boy slid a hand to his opposite arm to scratch through his jacket’s sleeve repeatedly. The boy was jonesing._

 

_“You need somewhere to wander to, tonight? My friend has really good glass.” At the mention of glass, Aaron’s eyes widened slightly, and then he was glancing around the mostly empty diner as if afraid. The only people inside were them, a bearded trucker on the opposite end of the counter, not paying them any attention, a drunk couple in the far corner by the windows, and the tired staff who looked as if they wouldn’t mind a hit of some glass themselves._

 

_“How much?” Aaron whispered._

 

_“My friend’s pretty negotiable,” Castiel replied casually, as if they were talking about the weather. “He’s in the parking lot. Wanna come with?” There was a long pause, where Aaron looked as if he were about to flee, and Castiel feared he had lost the game; if the kid decided to not come with him, then Dean would probably be angry. He didn’t want to make Dean angry._

 

_“Okay, I’ll come with you. I really need some man…”_

 

_Castiel glanced over his shoulder through the large front window and gave the slightest of nods. At the gesture, the headlights of the Impala flicked on and Castiel slid the last bit of cash he had for the meal he had ordered. “C’mon.”_

 

_Stools scraping against tile drew the eyes of the tired waitress, but Castiel turned away just in case she ended up recognizing him. They couldn’t risk anyone realizing he was the missing boy from Los Angeles, not that anyone would probably recognize him now. He was thinner than when he had gone missing, his eyes were more sunk in than before, and he didn’t really know it, but he looked like he could have easily been a drug addict. the window cast his reflection for a brief moment, but Castiel paid his image no heed. He didn’t really recognize himself either._

 

“C’mon Cas, help us out,” Dean growled as he and Sam lifted up the body, which weighed more now that that they had cut him open and stuffed rocks inside. The drive to the swamp hadn’t been far, and he had fit just fine in the trunk. But now they had to carry him through the dark, with a land full of snakes and gators. Castiel no longer felt as confident as when he had slit the boy’s throat open. That had been easy, but seeing him all pale, dirty, and mangled from their hack job...Castiel felt his stomach churn unpleasantly.

 

_“You’re super hot,” Aaron said with a smile as he kissed Castiel where they were lying on the ground. The boy had had some leftover cocaine in his backpack. He had been saving it for when he grew desperate, but they had taken it out and taken hits off of it; it wasn’t very good, but it was better than nothing. Aaron was sky high, and Castiel found him much more pleasant now that he was a bit high as well._

 

_Dean had only allowed him to take one line, but it was enough to give him a confidence booster. “Thanks,” he replied after the kiss ended. Dean and Sam were supposedly going to get the drugs Castiel had promised Aaron, which wa a lie of course. They were waiting by the car which wasn’t far off. Dean had given him a freshly sharpened knife so he could do this alone. If he did this alone, and did it well, he knew that Dean would trust him fully, and he would truly be a part of their family. He would not have to worry about his safety ever again if he did this right._

 

_“Where they at?” Aaron asked, suddenly impatient and antsy._

 

_Castiel sat up as Aaron did, turning him around by the shoulder. “They’ll be back. Don’t worry,” he soothed, running his hand up and down Aaron’s back._

 

_“They better be,” Aaron growled. “If you fuckin’ lied to me-”_

 

_“You’ll what?” Castiel asked, his head tilting to the side. “Kill me?” He barked out a laugh, which surprised even him. When had he started to sound like Dean? “I don’t think so.” The knife was in his hand before he could think twice, and he flicked the blade out, allowing Aaron’s eyes to settle on it before he had the boy pinned under him._

 

_“Hey-hey man-I’m sorry-I-” Aaron’s final speech was cut off in a gurgle as Castiel cut his throat. The knife did not go deep enough at first, so he did it again...and then again, just to be sure. The blood came out so fast, faster than Castiel had anticipated; it splashed over his hands, on his face, on his clothing. When Adam stilled, and there was nothing but the silence of the forest, as even the animals had stopped making noise at the smell of death, Castiel stared at his hands._

 

_Blood smelled like metal_.

 

The music pouring from the Impala’s radio fueled Dean the rest of the way back to the trailer. Once they were inside, Castiel’s blood clothes were shed by two pairs of hands, and soon he found himself in between Dean and Sam. The older Winchester behind him, pressing in deeply, and Castiel’s mouth wrapped around Sam’s cock; they moved as one unit, as if they were one soul, one body. When their orgasms came, they hit them at once, and afterwards, they were a pile of hot, sticky, and messy bodies cuddled in a pile on the bed Castiel had occupied just this morning. His world had been flipped upside down, and Castiel suddenly realized what real power felt like. He wanted to taste more.

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

“Shit drive!!”

 

Dean whooped in excitement, eagerly yelling as he pressed hard on the gas pedal. The Impala lurched down the road, leaving tire tracks in her wake as they squealed away to safety. Laughter kept bubbling out of him, and he looked over at Castiel who had taken residency in the front seat, as Sam had desperately clambered into the back. The store clerk was still cursing them as Dean drove away, the hot July air blowing and tousling his hair. Speaking of hair, Sammy desperately needed a haircut, and so did Castiel. They were both looking like hooligans, and Dean wouldn’t have that, not when they were internationally _famous_.

 

Six more bodies had been added since Castiel had taken out that Aaron brat. The FBI hadn’t found them out yet, didn’t even know what they looked like. The idea that they could literally get away with murder was making Dean delirious with joy. And now that there were three of them, it was easier to lure men in; Castiel was easy bait, with his young looks, gorgeous body, and hypnotic eyes, it took nothing to make the men and boys flock to them. It as like luring flies to honey.

 

“Did we lose them?” Castiel asked, turning around to look back at Sam, who was also laughing in relief.

 

Dean dared a glance in the rearview. “Yeah. How much did you get, Sammy?”

 

“Three hundred bucks,” Sam replied as he went to recount the money. “I’m pretty sure.”

 

Dean nodded. “Sweet. That’ll tide us over for a little while at least.”

 

“Are we going out tonight?” Castiel asked him, before slinking over to press up against Dean’s side across the bench seat.

 

Soft, pliant lips found their way to Dean’s pulse, kissing feather lightly. The sensation made Dean shudder. “Yeah baby, anything you want,” he whispered. Castiel had wormed his way into Dean’s heart, and he took good care of his little brat. When Dean glanced back at Sam again, he found that his little brother was glaring at them. Was Sam jealous? “How much Sammy?”

 

“I told you, three hundred,” Sam spat back, his tone like ice.

 

Sammy _was_ jealous. He would have to have a talk with him sooner or later… when he saw the dark look Sam gave him in the mirror again, Dean realized it would have to be sooner rather than later. “How about we get something to eat, yeah?”

 

“You might want to put more distance between us and the store firs, Dean,” Castiel pointed out smartly. Sometimes, Dean had no idea how he and Sam had survived with Cas.

 

“That’s right baby,” he agreed immediately. “But then after a bit, we could get something. We’re close to Amish country, you wanna stop by a real place to get some real fuckin’ food? None of that fast food shit.” They had been gorging themselves on fast food for what felt like forever, and Dean had a feeling it was just going to rot their guts right through their colon and asses. Real, homemade meals sounded appealing to him, even if they did cost more. “Then we could get you somathat fudge you like so much, Sammy. Remember that?”

 

There was silence in the back seat, so Dean turned around to smack his knee. Sam jerked and turned his eyes back on him, looking more and more offended by the minute. “What?” he asked.

 

“I said, we could get you some of that fudge you like so much,” he repeated, slowing down so Sam would understand him. From the look Sam gave him, he probably enunciated too much, to the point that Sam felt like Dean thought he was stupid.

 

“Whatever, Dean,” was the nasty reply.

 

“What’s up your ass, huh?” When Sam refused to answer him, Dean rolled his eyes and reached forward to turn the radio on. Classic 80’s rock blasted them all, making Castiel jump, and Dean laugh. He draped an arm casually around Castiel’s shoulders. The road was empty and stretched on for what looked like miles, but despite knowing they had a long drive ahead of them, he couldn’t keep the smile from his face.

 

\--

 

“ _Another_ one? You’ve got to be _fucking_ kidding me, these guys just don’t quit!” Henriksen groaned into the phone, finally hanging up in defeat. Not enough evidence to make an accusation, not even enough evidence to really make a _case_. The killings were most random, the only thing that remained the same was the age group. They never killed anyone over the age of twenty-six. At least, not to the FBI’s knowledge. But his team had found another body, this one on the side of the road, his clothes missing, and on display like a mile marker. He didn’t know who they were, or what they were really going after, since the only commonality was the age of the young men taken by the killers, and since they always wore condoms, they never left DNA behind in their sexual excursions.

 

He was about to bang his head into his desk when his phone rang once again. Dragging his hand through what felt like sludge, Henriksen slowly picked up, barely making a sound when he answered. Just a slight grunt, which wasn’t professional, but was probably more than called for. The man on the other end voice was deep and it made Henriksen think of someone who was either trying too hard to sound like more of a man, or the guy hadn’t had a drink of water in a few days. He only said one thing before the line went dead, and he felt a chill run down his spine. The phone beeped in his ear, reminding him that the call had ended, but he could only sit in his chair, absolutely floored.

 

“Sir? ...Sir?”

 

Slowly, Henriksen came back to himself and he looked up to find Garth standing there. “Yeah?” he asked.

 

“Are you alright?”

 

He shook his head. “The killer was on the phone,” he whispered.

 

“Wh- _when_?”

 

“Just now… He said, and I quote, “You’ll never catch me.” And that’s it. He hung up. Wouldn’t have had time to trace the call even if I had thought about it. _Fuck_.” The frustration that this asshole was somehow still two steps ahead of him, made fury fill his gut. He wanted this guy strapped to a chair so he could inject him with potassium chloride himself. He looked up at Garth darkly. “Bring me the case files. All of them.”

 

\--

 

“You’re jealous of Cas.”

 

The words were like a hot blade cutting through his ribs to his heart, because even Sam knew they were true. He was jealous of Castiel; the little bastard had Dean’s full affections, and now Sam was struggling to stay in Dean’s favor. The soda machine mocked him as he stood glaring at it, wishing it would just give him the damn soda he had paid for already. “No I’m not,” he replied.

 

“Yes you are,” Dean purred. “And you shouldn’t be. He can’t replace you. Never.”

 

Sam glanced back at Dean in disbelief. “Yeah? Cuz I’m pretty sure he has already.”

 

“No,” Dean insisted. A strong hand went to rest beneath his shirt along his lower back in affection. “Sammy, baby, he can’t replace you. That’d be impossible, ya hear? You don’t gotta be jealous of Cas...I know I’ve been favorin’ him more lately, and I’m sorry. I just...he’s a cute little fucker, he’s hard to say no to.”

 

“He’s a hassle,” Sam growled. In the beginning, he had liked Castiel, because he had been there to help care for Dean, but now he was just an extra body they didn’t need. “He doesn’t _do_ anything.”

 

“Yes he does,” Dean snapped. “He does most of the leg work, makin’ our job a hell of a lot easier. You should be _thanking_ him.”

 

“I _like_ legwork Dean, I don’t mind it,” he whispered back. “I miss it even. I miss _you_. I miss being with you. We haven’t…. had sex in a while, and I miss that.”

 

His brother’s face softened and then he felt Dean’s arms wrap around him, a kiss going to his lips. “I’m sorry Sammy. I’ll take care of you, you want me to take care of you baby? Right now? Huh? Cas is occupied.”

 

“Where, Dean? We’re in public-” When Dean’s hot mouth went to his neck, he couldn’t help but moan. Dean’s lips were like an oasis in this July heat wave, and all he wanted to do was strip them both and fuck until he couldn’t see straight.

 

Dean smirked, his eyebrows waggling suggestively. “I’m sure we could find a place for a quickie. Unless you want to be treated like a lady and wait for a bed.”

 

Sometimes Dean’s womanizer misogyny was just annoying. “And you wonder why women want to slap you when they’re through with you.”

 

At that comment, Dean’s grin only widened. “Until they get to see my-”

 

“Dean,” Sam snapped, cutting him off. The ache to sleep with Dean hit him then and he knew that he needed to take Dean somewhere so they could fuck it out. But they were in the middle of Amish country, full of conservative Amish people, where would they find a private place to fuck _here_? Sam had Dean by the hand and they were walking around the antique barn they were in standing in front of to the back, where there was only a lone horse and buggy, emptied from what Sam could see. Dean had him up against the rough wood before he could even position them behind next to a vending machine.

 

“You don’t gotta be jealous of Cas, Sammy.” Dean slid his arms around Sam’s waist and picked him up for a kiss, mashing their mouths together messily. “I only got one Sammy and I love him more than anything, you hear?”

 

Sam nodded dumbly, since that was all he could bring himself to do anyway. Dean was right; it was stupid to be jealous of Castiel. When Dean’s hands wrapped around him and pulled his clothing down, aside, off, up and so on, their bodies grinding together in quick, passionate movements, he forgot about everything. Dean became the center of his universe, and he could do no wrong; Dean was everything. Dean’s heat filled him up, and he welcome the burn of the ill prepared stretch, he welcomed the pain. They panted and gasped, moving together clumsily, Dean holding him up against the barn; the snap of his hips, and the slap of their flesh filled Sam’s ears, and he couldn’t stop from moaning. A kiss shut him up, and Dean pressed their foreheads together, trading quick kisses now and again. The orgasm washed over him in pleasurable waves, and then Dean was filling him and everything felt _right_ ; they were in Amish country, fucking like sinners in church, and they were on top of the world.

 

They were _famous_.

 

Their work was all over the papers. In every state. They were the most wanted men in America. And the cops had no idea what they looked like, what their names were, anything at all. Dean was a genius, and Sam was _his_. Castiel was soon forgotten and Sam stared at Dean with hearts in his eyes, giving his brother an eager kiss. “I love you too,” he whispered. “I love you more than anything too.”

 

Dean smiled back at him, helping him redress and settle himself. “C’mon. Let’s go get some fudge.”

 

Sam nodded tiredly. His legs felt like rubber, but Dean had an arm around his waist to keep him steady as they walked away. It wasn’t until they had caught up with Castiel again that Sam felt a surge of jealousy fill him again. Tolerating Castiel had been easy when Dean had treated him like a pet, but now Castiel had privileges; he was no longer just a pet to Dean. Sam was Dean’s everything, but Castiel was close behind him in this race for Dean’s affection. He didn’t like it. Not one bit.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

The pain in his head made concentrating difficult. Just a few more steps and he would be back in the hotel parking lot, but he was bleeding. The neon sign flickered dangerously in the wind, as the thunder rolled overhead. They had found themselves in Alabama on a hunt. Dean and Sam had told him to stay in the motel, and not to leave the room, but boredom had made him disobey. He had left the room and gone across the street to get something to eat with the cash Dean had given him; he hadn’t expected to meet someone at the small bar he had ended up in.

 

_The bar was small and dingy, with a pool table off to the far left. It was full of men in baseball caps, and overalls. They had to be truckers, passing through the town, or they were just the local rednecks, either way Castiel could feel their eyes on him. Dean had bought him a new pair of shorts, which he had worn tonight, and a loose white tank, one of Dean’s plaid shirts over that, the sleeves rolled up.  Castiel knew that he looked too young to be in here, but they hadn’t checked his ID so he went to sit in a booth near the pool table. A waitress came to take his drink order - lemonade - and then he was alone._

 

_The bar was mostly quiet, with some classic rock playing in the background as ambiance; Dean would have liked this place. But Sam and Dean were out, and they had_ told _him to not leave the room, but he had decided to disobey for once. He was hungry and he had only gone across the street, it wasn’t that big of a deal, and besides he would probably be back before they returned anyway. His scalp burned with itch and Castiel had to keep his hands from digging at his hair; the last motel they had spent the night in must have given him lice. Castiel shuddered at the thought; Dean would kill him if he had bugs._

 

_“You look like you’re a little too young to be out here by yourself.”_

 

_Castiel looked up from where he must have been staring at the table to meet friendly blue eyes. They belonged to a man who stood about as tall as Dean did, his hair cropped short, and his face full of handsome scruff. He wore an old pea coat, which Castiel wasn’t sure how he handled in this heat, a white shirt beneath, and old dark jeans. The hat on his head looked like an old fisherman’s hate, and from the guy’s demeanor, he seemed like an outdoorsy type of person.  However, despite his good looks, Castiel decided a rebuke was probably best._

 

_“And you look a little too old to be asking me my business,” he replied hotly, hoping his snark would make him lose interest and walk away._

 

_The man flashed him a pretty white smile instead. “I’m Benny Lafitte, what’s your name?”_

 

_Castiel rolled his eyes. “Not your business,” he said._

 

_“Hm, interestin’ name, Kid.”_

 

_Castiel glanced up at Benny, and even he couldn’t stop from blushing and smiling shyly. “If you’re hitting on me, you’re doing a really bad job of it.”_

 

_Benny slowly sank down across from him in the booth, clasping his hands together and placing them on the table. “How old are you?”_

 

_Castiel smirked. “Eighteen,” he lied. He was_ almost _eighteen, it was close enough to the truth._

 

_Benny’s eyes flicked over him a few times before settling back in his gaze. “And what’s a young thing like you doin’ in a place like this, hm?”_

 

_“I was hungry, so I walked over from the motel to get something to eat. Nothing more to it than that.”_

 

_“I see,” Benny replied slowly. He went to say something else but Castiel’s waitress had returned with his iced tea and a basket of onion rings, claiming that a gentleman at the bar had paid for them._

 

_Castiel smiled, pleased that he wouldn’t have to buy his food after all, and gave her some money to cover the drink and a tip, and then they were alone again. He eagerly picked up an onion ring and bit into the battery goodness; they tasted delicious, and they were the right temperature. Not too hot but not too cold either. Perfect. “See? Hungry.”_

 

_Benny nodded. “What you doin’ at the hotel?”_

 

_“I’m with some friends. We’re on a road trip.,” came the reply smoothly, which wasn’t a complete and total lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth either. No one needed to know the whole truth. “Why? you want me to come home with you?”_

 

_“I only take the willin’, Sugar,” Benny said with a smile. “You willin’ or no?”_

 

_Castiel popped another onion ring in his mouth. Would Dean be angry if he slept with someone else? Probably, but casual sex sounded like a fun time. He hadn’t even had sex in a while. Dean had been favoring Sam over him lately, and he was starting to get blue balls because of it. Maybe he would make this guy’s night. “I’ll think about it,” he replied._

 

_Benny smiled._

 

Castiel continued to limp his way to the motel room; the Impala was sitting in the parking lot. Dean and Sam were back, and he had a feeling he was going to be in a lot of trouble. The room key had been in his pocket, but now that he searched, he felt nothing. His pockets were empty. Castiel whimpered in pain, his head giving a throb, and he could only reach and knock against the door. God, did he hope Dean was in a good mood tonight.

 

_Benny was a big boy; he filled him up more than Dean ever could. The bed rocked and squeaked dangerously as Benny pounded him into the mattress, and Castiel could only hang on for dear life. Sex hadn’t been this good in weeks. Being quiet was completely out of the question, and his cries of pleasure filled the small trailer that Benny lived out of. They were fucking in a small trailer, on the back of Benny’s truck, in the parking lot for the bar. Sex hadn’t been this cheap in weeks either. The Cajun’s hands were rough and well calloused, working his cock eagerly as they fucked. Castiel could feel his toes curling dangerously as he grew closer to completion. A few more thrusts from Benny’s huge dick, and he was done._

 

_“Gonna--come--Sugar,” Benny growled in his ear._

 

_Castiel slid his hands down to grasp onto Benny’s ass, holding him in close, making the big man grind against his prostate. One more slow roll of his hips, and Castiel cried out, coming all over Benny’s hand. The Cajun smiled and closed his eyes, slowly coming to a finish shortly behind him. He missed the feeling of having someone’s cum inside him, but Benny had worn a condom, which Castiel had tried to tell him wasn’t necessary, but Benny had scolded him on being a stupid kid, and he shouldn’t let some stranger fuck him without one. The gesture had been oddly endearing._

 

_When Benny finished, he pulled out slow and got up to dispose of the condom but then that bear of a man returned and wrapped him up in his arms. Castiel was surprised at the kind gesture of cuddling; Dean didn’t cuddle him often. He cuddled Sam much more often than him. In fact, Castiel had found himself sleeping on the floor more often than the bed. He wasn’t sure what he had done to upset Dean, he just hoped that he could fall back into his good graces soon._

 

_“You don’t have to do that,” Castiel whispered, but Benny pulled him close insead. Everything felt good with Benny; safe even. He never felt this safe with the Winchesters._

 

_Benny slid a hand through Castiel’s hair and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “You sure a cute, Sug. I wouldn’t mind having you around more often.”_

 

_Castiel tilted his head slightly, surprised at Benny’s kindness. “You don’t want me around, I’m a brat.”_

 

_A warm smile filled Benny’s face and he chuckled. “That right?”_

 

_“Yeah. Ask my parents….and my friends.”_

 

_“Seems like you could use better friends.” Benny kissed him on the lips, and the kiss made Castiel’s spine tingle. “Where you headed anyway?”_

 

_Castiel shrugged. “I dunno. We’re not really headed anywhere I suppose. Just driving.”_

 

_“You ain’t gotta home some place?” Benny began to pet his head kindly and Castiel could have purred at the affection; it was so nice compared to Dean’s coldness._

 

_In fact, it was so nice that Castiel was tempted to_ tell _Benny everything; about who he was, where he was from, about the Winchesters, how he was their prisoner, about how they had had him kill a man, about how he had even liked it, and how he wasn’t sure if that was due to the fear of death or because he was actually a freak.  He ached to tell Benny everything, to have Benny save him, but then Dean’s image flashed in his mind. His green eyes, the freckles, the sometimes kind smile, the strong hands... and how insane Dean could be._

 

_“I did once,” he dared to admit. He went to say more but then there was a phone ringing and Benny kissed his forehead, quietly excusing himself into getting up and wandered off towards the front of the trailer to get to it. The Cajun had such a nice butt, Castiel couldn’t stop himself from admiring it._

 

_“This is Benny,” Benny answered the phone. There was some silence and then Benny was looking back at him and then away again. “Mhm.”_

 

_Castiel frowned, slowly sitting up; his shorts were on the floor, along with his underwear and shirt. Who was Benny talking to and why was he suddenly so damn paranoid about it? He watched Benny reach for a controller and then a small TV was on and Benny was flipping through the channels as he listened to whomever was on the phone with him. Castiel saw him settle on the news and then he leaned over to see what he was looking at. Panic seized his chest when Castiel saw who was on the TV screen._

 

_Him._

 

“Where the _fuck_ have you been?!” Dean screamed as he opened the door. “I have been _calling_ you and calling you, you fucking twit. I _told_ you to stay here! In this motel, and you weren’t here. Where were you?!”

 

Castiel stammered and gaped like a fish. He could practically hear his mother telling him to shut his mouth before a bird came and landed, but he couldn’t stop from making half noises that were not even close to English. Not until Dean raised his hand to strike him, did he blurt out, “We have to leave.”

 

Dean paused, slowly lowering his hand. “Why? What happened? You’re bleeding, why are you bleeding?”

 

_He was on the television screen and Benny was slowly turning around to look at him, and then turning his eyes back on the screen, as if trying to make the images register. He didn’t look like his picture, but there was no mistaking his eyes. Castiel jumped up and before he could stop himself, he was running at Benny.  Benny dropped the phone and fell back a few steps but Castiel grabbed a bottle and brought it as hard as he could down on Benny’s head. The bottle was heavy, one of those really nice whiskey bottles, and the glass didn’t break like the movies, it remained whole and heavy in Castiel’s hand. The impact made his arm hurt but Benny was slumping to the floor, so Castiel dropped the bottle and staggered back to grab his clothing. He just hoped the big man remained unconscious long enough for him to leave._

 

_Yanking on his clothing as fast as he could, Castiel turned to leave, when he felt the trailer lurch. Benny was slowly getting up, and he had to give the guy some credit, that bottle had hit him hard and he was already up again. The problem with Benny getting up was that he was between him and the door. Castiel needed to leave. Benny looked up at him, not completely registering what had happened._

 

_“Move,” Castiel snapped. He hadn’t brought the switchblade Dean had given him. Damn it, he should have brought that blade!_

 

_“Yer...that kid…” Benny muttered, rubbing his temple. “The one who...disappeared…”_

 

_Could he outrun Benny? Probably. He_ had _just hit the man in the head with a heavy liquor bottle, and he was younger and more lithe. Slowly, Castiel began to inch his way towards the door. “Yeah so?”_

 

_“Yer folks..prob’bly wonderin’ where you are...lemme..lemme take you home-”_

 

_“No,” Castiel snapped. “I don’t want to go home, I_ am _home.” The words came out of his mouth without him even thinking twice about them, but they still felt wrong. Like they belonged to someone else, and not him. The Winchesters weren’t_ home _, they were his wardens. Right?_

 

_“Cas-” Benny reached for him but Castiel threw himself against the door of the trailer. It opened without much effort and his momentum sent him to the ground, and his head smacked against the asphalt hard. Pain and white light shot behind his eyeballs, and he could make out a fuzzy voice calling his name. As soon as he could see again, Castiel began to crawl and rush away, stumbling out of the parking lot  and back towards the motel room. How long had he been gone? Were Dean and Sam home? The pain in his head was making it hard to concentrate_.

 

“A guy- I was with a guy,” Castiel finally managed to say. “But he recognized me-we have to leave...I-I hit him with a bottle but he knows I’m over here. We gotta go. C’mon-c’mon-”

 

Dean glared, his anger clear. “ _This_ is why you listen!” he snapped, giving Castiel a hard shake. “You piece of trash, _this_ is why you listen to me! You hear?! You disobey again and I’ll cut off your damn feet. Got it?”

 

Flinching and cowering seemed like the best option, so Castiel made himself as small as he could without having to sit down. “Yes Dean,” he whispered.

  
“Good. Sammy, pack up the car. C’mon.” Dean turned to help them pack up and Castiel slid out of their way, flinching further under the glares of both Sam and Dean now. Once the Impala was packed, Castiel slid into the back, and stared out the window. Benny’s trailer was still sitting in the parking lot when they drove away, but Castiel could see the man watching them, the phone pressed to his ear.

 


	8. Chapter 8

“We’ve got a license plate Sir.”

 

Henriksen raised his eyes as if Fitzgerald had started speaking through the mouth of God. “You’re joking.”

 

The man shook his head. “Nah. You said that Mrs. Novak believes the killers took Castiel, well we both know we can’t be sure on _that_ , but we did get a tip about the kid at least. He’s alive. The car he was in was a 1967 Chevrolet Impala, license plate KAZ 2Y5.”

 

The papers were slid into Henriksen’s line of sight and he practicailly snatcched them off of the desk and allowed his eyes to adjust in disbelief. No one could know for sure that the men in the Impala were the killers, but they had at least found Castiel Novak _alive_ , with two other men. “I want this car trace and found _now_.”

 

Garth nodded. “Already did, Sir.”

 

“Where are they?” he snarled.

 

“Confluence, Mississippi.”

 

\--

 

_“As I went down to the river to pray, studying about that good old way, and who shall wear a starry crown, good Lord show me the way.”_

 

Castiel shut his eyes as the eerie sound filled his ears of the church choir singing; the singing was filtering from the small church and out to the street. Most people walked passed without a second glance but Castiel paused and felt hot tears slide behind his eyes. The song had been Jimmy’s favorite in Bible school; he had used to stand up on a stool in the bathroom, proudly singing it while he washed his hands, brushed his hair, or fixed his clothes. Their Mother had always been a religious woman; before moving to Los Angeles they had lived in the countryside, with a small church, with parishioners that all knew one another.

 

_“O,’ Sisters let’s go down, let’s go down, c’mon down. O’ Sisters let’s go down, down in the river to pray.”_

 

The tears that began to grow too hot to stay in his eyes, slithered tracks along his face, glittering like fallen stars in the sun. Dean and Sam didn’t know about him leaving again but he had wanted to go to the corner store to grab something to eat. Dean was still furious with him for practically getting them caught. No one had come after them as far as he knew, but that did not stop Castiel from worrying on Dean’s threats. He was an angry man, who probably meant what he said, and Castiel had no desire to test those threats. So he had gone in the middle of the day, left a note, and with how long he would be gone. He hadn’t expected to be gone long, but the song had caught him off guard.

 

He hadn’t been in a church in years. The sins he had committed with the Winchesters were unforgivable but Castiel stared at the wooden doors, suddenly feeling a vast longing to _belong_. He wanted to stop running from the authorities, even though Dean had shown him power, _real_ power. The power of playing God. However, that power had to come with a price, Castiel was just waiting for that price to fall upon them like wolves did with their prey. Dean had killed his twin, and yet Castiel had done nothing to Dean in retribution; he had had plenty of chances. Dean didn’t sleep with a knife or gun beneath his pillow, and even if he only managed to wound Dean, he could die knowing he had attempted avenging Jimmy.

 

_“....Good Lord show me the way.”_

 

Castiel shuddered and quickly snapped his gaze away from the doors of the church. He didn’t belong in church; he had _murdered_ people. Murder was one of the Ten Commandments, and how one was not supposed to take the life of another human being; he had sinned so badly that he was going straight to Hell. There was no baptizing or cleansing his marred skin now. It was too late for him, not even a priest could absolve him of his grievous sins. The sidewalk was cracked and Castiel hopped over them, just as he and Jimmy had as children.

 

_Don’t step on a crack, it’ll break your mama’s back_.

 

They had believed in such superstitions as children. All children their age had, it was just part of growing up. It was stupid now that Castiel thought on it; stupid the things children would believe. He shook his head and pulled the corner store’s door open, his eyes falling on the snacks and candy immediately. There was a five dollar bill stowed away in his back pocket, that was the last of his money. The song and Jimmy’s laughter and smile haunted his thoughts as he debated on whether to splurge and buy the big bag of chips or a bunch of little one dollar snacks instead.

 

“You okay?”

 

Castiel jerked and raised his eyes to the girl who had started talking to him. She had long dark hair and an air of smugness about her, as if she knew something he did not. “What?” he asked, his heart slowly returning from the thumping it had been doing earlier.

 

“You’re crying.” She pointed to the tears on his face.

 

“Oh..yeah-I’m-I’m fine.” Castiel wiped at his cheeks in annoyance, banishing the thoughts of his dead twin and the church from his mind. “Thanks though.”

 

“I’m Meg Masters,” she said with a small smile. “Who’re you?”

 

Castiel stared at her for too long without saying anything. Gaping at her seemed like a better alternative to telling her his name; Dean had never given him something to call himself. Should he claim himself a Winchester or a Novak? Or nobody at all? Nobody at all seemed like the best idea, since it was true. Dean had molded into someone he didn’t recognize anymore. Sure he had been a shoplifter, a liar, and a cheat even but he had never been a murderer before them. Now he was a murderer, and an accessory to murder; he was a criminal, a real honest to God, go to Hell, jail, and everywhere criminal.

 

“I’m-” He went to speak but he stared in surprise when the cops were walking in and not just walking in, but walking _up_ to him.

 

“Castiel Novak?” one of them asked, even as he was showing him a badge.

 

Castiel squinted his eyes and then realized that the man standing here with him was no other than the man who had stood on his doorstep that night when they had found out about Jimmy. “You’re the Detective,” he whispered. “The one who told Mom about Jimmy.”

 

The man nodded. “I’m Special Agent Henriksen, do you mind coming with us please?”

 

He wanted to refuse; he wanted to tell these men to fuck off, but they knew who he was now, since he had just revealed himself. Did that mean that they had Sam and Dean in custody already? They had to, right? “How’d you find me?” he asked before taking a step after him. The officers didn’t know _everything_ ; they weren’t arresting him, meaning they had no idea he had helped in the killings, or maybe they didn’t know about the killings at all. Why should they?

 

“We got an anonymous tip about the car, and how you were in it. We traced the license plate here. But you’re safe now, we’re going to take you to the local station where your kidnappers have been arrested, and then you can go home soon, I promise.”

 

There, that was the real explanation. They were arresting Dean and Sam on kidnapping because of Benny. Castiel had no choice but to follow the police, into their cars, and then they were at the station to a holding room. “Are you arresting me?” he asked as soon as the man returned, a cup in his hand.

 

“No,” Henriksen replied, sliding the cup over. “Some water.”

 

Castiel peered into the cup and then glanced back up at him. He looked tired, as if he wanted to sink into the floor and never wake up again. Of course, they were still trying to catch the killers on the loose. But Henriksen had no idea that he had inadvertently caught his prey, and Castiel was the real decider. He could confess; he could tell the FBI everything he knew, how he was coerced, how afraid he was, and Dean and Sam would go to jail, but he too could go to jail… or he could let them get caught on kidnapping… or he could tell the cops that he had gone willingly. He was seventeen, almost eighteen, he could make his own decisions, right?

 

“So, you mind filling in the blanks here. Last movement tracked by you was your mother saying you were gone after the morning I came to your house, and then that night our tipper told us about...You mind telling me the rest?” Henriksen asked, lying his hands on the table so Castiel could see them.

 

The desire to talk became like a monster scraping beneath his chest, scrabbling to be free; if he told the truth he would be free of Dean’s poisonous grasp, but if somehow Dean walked…? Well Dean would _know_ who had turned him in, and he would come for him. Castiel had a feeling that no manner of police protection could keep him alive then. And there was the issue that he could possibly go to jail for committing murder too; jail time was not on his to do list.

 

“I left,” Castiel said honestly. “After I found out about Jimmy, I didn’t want to be at home anymore so I left. I met Dean and Sam on the road...they didn’t kidnap me, I went with them willingly. I’m sorry I caused so much trouble, but really, I’m not a hostage or anything.” This was theoretically all true, except for that last part. He was part hostage, part family member, it was an extremely bizarre situation.

 

“I see,” Henriksen said, rubbing his chin in his hand. “So, you went as a willing party?”

 

“Yep. I’ve been travelling with them. It’s nice.” Castiel stared Henriksen down silently; he had a feeling that the man just didn’t believe him, but he was telling the truth more or less, just not the whole truth. “I don’t want to go home. I’m seventeen, I’ll be eighteen soon. Please don’t make me go home.”

 

“Your mother is very worried about you-”

 

“My mother is a good actress,” he replied, completely deadpan.

 

The answer made Henriksen uncomfortable. The cop shifted in his seat a few times, and he coughed to end the awkward silence. “That so?”

 

“Yes. She isn’t _worried_ about me, she’s worried that I’ll ruin the family name by ending up in jail or some shit like that. She’s not actually worried about _me_.” He shook his head and then he was getting up. “If you’re not arresting me, I would like to go now.”

 

“Castiel-”

 

“Good bye,” Castiel snapped before walking out of the room in a rush. He caught of a glimpse of Dean who was in handcuffs on his way out. The man looked up at him, and they exchanged looks of concern for one another. Castiel gave Dean a nod, before hurrying out of the station. Sam and Dean would walk out of there, and he figured they would get out of there as soon as possible, so Castiel hurried his way back to the hotel they were staying at. Baby was still sitting in the parking lot. The cops would probably find a way to get a search warrant for the car, and that would take a lot of explaining. Stomach twisting and churning, Castiel went to wait for the brothers. If they came back, they would be leaving town, and he needed to be ready.

 

\--

 

Dean was glad to shake off the cops as he and Sam made their way back to the motel. Castiel was sitting curled up in the back seat, since Dean hardly locked her up. “Now, you see, I thought he would have been skippin’ town.”

 

Sam shrugged. “But he didn’t,” he pointed out.

 

There was some weird feeling of affection filling Dean’s chest; Castiel could have left and he would have never been able to find the kid again. If Castiel had left them, Dean would have torn up the countryside to find his beautiful, blue eyed angel, but he knew in his heart that it would have been over. But there he was, sleeping in the backseat. Castiel was _loyal_ , that was so damn important.

 

“Yeah, he didn. He’s a good boy.” Dean broke his and Sam’s pace to speed up and get ahead of him, pulling open the backdoor, which made Castiel jerk awake. “Hey Beautiful.”

 

Castiel stared up at him in bleary eyed shock. “Dean?”

 

He grinned. “Good boy Cas.”

 

Castiel blinked and then slowly smiled, as if he was finally understanding that Dean was happy with him. “We going now?”

 

“Yeah baby, we’re goin’. Sammy, you still got the room key?”

 

“Yeah Dean, I’ll get our stuff.”

 

“Thanks.” Sam hurried away and Dean slid into the backseat with Castiel, pulling the boy close, and giving him a long and needy kiss. He felt Castiel moan, the boy’s body quickly melting against him. Their breathing grew uneven and Dean sucked bruises into Castiel’s skin along his neck and collarbones. This boy was _his_ , and he needed the whole world to know it.

 

“Dean we have to leave-” Castiel whispered, even as he began to spread his legs for Dean to grind against.

 

“Yeah I know baby, I know. I’ll give it to ya later, alright?” Dean gave Castiel another kiss before pulling away. Sam was returning with the bags, his face unreadable, but Dean ignored him as he slid into the driver’s seat, and revving up Baby. She purred eagerly and soon they were on the road again, the wind whipping in his hair. They were free, and the cops had no idea what they had done. The thought made Dean laugh; it bubbled out of him suddenly, and Sam gave him a raised eyebrow, but he ignored Sam’s concern. The laughter was contagious, and soon Castiel was giggling, and Dean just laughed harder. Sam never joined their laughter.

 

 


	9. Chapter 9

“What kind of crap are you listening to?”

 

“Lana Del Rey-”

 

“Turn it off, it sounds fuckin’ depressing.”

 

Castiel sighed slightly, trying to make it sound as if he were just shifting around to shut the radio off, rather than sighing. It was hot and Lana had always brought him comfort; leave it to Dean to take that away from him. Sam was still inside the gas station, leaving Dean to lean back against the door of the Impala, the back of his gray t-shirt coated in sweat from the sweltering 101 degree weather. He was tempted to push the back of Dean’s shirt up and press eager kisses to his sweaty skin, licking up the salt along the dip in Dean’s spine, but he stayed in his seat.

 

“Jesus Sammy, what are you doing in there?” Dean muttered to himself. “Probably jerkin’ off in the damn bathroom.”

 

Castiel unbuckled his seatbelt and crawled across the seat to slide Dean’s shirt up, pressing a kiss to his lower back. Dean had a dust of freckles along his spine and the top of his tailbone that Castiel liked to lick and kiss. He had counted once; there were twenty freckles in a little dusting right there along Dean’s lumbar spine.

 

“What are you doin’?” Dean asked, but his tone was light, and Castiel could hear the smile slowly forming.

 

“Nothing,” he replied coyly, before running his tongue in the dip of Dean’s back. He heard Dean grumble a low groan, and that made Castiel smile.

 

“I’m gonna go in there and kick Sammy’s ass if he don’-” Dean cut off when Sam finally made an appearance. “There you are, what took you so damn long?”

 

“Nothing,” the younger Winchester snapped defensively. Sam cast Castiel a dark look before getting into the back seat, pressing his knees up against the back of Castiel’s seat so they would dig now and again through the seat and into his back. “Let’s _go_ , Dean.”

 

“Hey!” Dean snapped, even as he was sliding behind the wheel, easing Castiel back into his previous spot. “Don’t tell me what to fuckin’ do, Sammy.”

 

“Fuck you Dean,” Sam growled back.

 

There was an awkward silence directly after, but Castiel kept his nose out of the bickering. Sam was slowly starting to fall from grace, ever since Dean had started to favor him again after the police caught them. Now, Sam was being blamed for the smallest of things, and honestly, Castiel felt sorry for him. Sam loved Dean, but Dean was questioning Sam’s every move and loyalty, which was just a part of Dean’s personality, but Sam was starting to take everything personally.

 

“Where we headed, Beautiful?” Dean asked him. There was a map in his calloused hands. Dean never asked him where they were going; this was like some weird initiation into being a real Winchester.

 

The map felt heavy in his hands Castiel opened it and there it was; Maine. He had grown up in Maine, before he and his family had moved to L.A. There wasn’t much to _do_ in Maine, but there was the ocean. He really liked the ocean. “Maine,” he replied.

 

Sam snorted but Dean nodded. “Alright,” he replied, ignoring Sam’s snark. “Maine it is, babe.”

 

Castiel returned Dean’s smile before turning his eyes back out the window and onto the road. The side mirror glimpsed Sam, and Castiel could see the look of anger on his face. Not that Castiel could _blame_ Sam for being annoyed and angry; he knew what it was like to be the less favored in Dean’s eye. The only way to regain favor was to placate Dean but Sam was not in the mood to placate his brother, so they remained at war with one another. Perhaps if he spoke to Dean, he could help them make up.

 

They had a long drive ahead of them, and with the brothers fighting, it would just make everything awkward and tense the entire way. There was also the worry that Sam was starting to dislike him, and Castiel was worried what that could mean for him. Sam still had influence over Dean, even when they were mad at one another. Dean could flip on him without a second’s notice, and all because Sam wanted it to be that way. But if he made Sam like him again, then it would be peaceful in paradise once again. Besides, Sam didn’t _deserve_ Dean’s animosity, and neither did he. They were both deserving of Dean’s favor. He would talk to Dean when they stopped for rest.

 

\--

 

“I think you should be nicer to Sam.”

 

Dean gave pause before he handed the ice cream cone over to Castiel, completely taken aback. Nicer to Sam? _Nicer_ to Sam? How could he be _nicer_ to Sam? “I’m already nice to Sam,” he pointed out. “He’s breathin’. I’m bein’ nice to him.”

 

“Yes, but you could be _nicer_. Let him sit up front sometimes, and sleep with him again. I’m sure he misses you.” Castiel turned on his one thousand watt smile, which always made Dean want to crumble at the seams.

 

“Nicer huh?” Dean frowned and began to lick up the ice cream in his hand. They had stopped at a motel for the night, and Sam was still back there supposedly; he hadn’t wanted to come to buy dessert. That was completely out of character for Sammy, but as he thought on it, Sam _had_ been acting surlier lately. If his little brother were unhappy that would explain a few things; the gas station, the nastiness in the car.

 

“You have been blaming him for a lot of stuff,” Castiel continued, drawing him out of his thoughts. “I think if...maybe you were to...I don’t know...praise him now and again, and show him some affection, he would cool off. I hate to see you two fight.”

 

Castiel hated confrontation, Dean had learned that quickly; he would rather fall on his knees and suck Dean’s cock then have a fight. Not that that made Dean complain or anything. He and Sam however, they fought like cats and dogs, and their explosions could be like fire and gasoline. But when they made up? _Oh_ the sex was always the best; they would go to the bed and Dean would press into Sam as slowly as he could, and they would move as one, sweating and kissing each other passionately. When they came, they came together, practically screaming each other’s names. Makeup sex with Sammy was always worth the fighting. But Castiel was also right, he needed to pay attention to his Sammy or the wounds would fester and rot; Dean did not like it when Sammy grew so angry he blew up.

 

Cleaning up _those_ messes were never fun for anyone involved.

 

“Alright Cas,” he finally said. “I’ll make up with Sam.”

 

Castiel’s smile returned to his face. “Great. _Great_.”

 

Dean smirked and ruffled the boy’s hair. On their return drive, Dean asked Castiel to stay in the car, so he could have some time with Sam. The boy was only happy to comply. Taking a deep breath, Dean opened the door to the room and slid inside; Sammy was stretched out on the bed, face down, his arms wrapped around a pillow. The sight made Dean smile; he loved seeing Sammy all content and comfortable. Of course, that did not stop him from walking over to shake him awake either. “Sam, _Sam_.”

 

There was a grumble and a groan of protest before Sam rolled over tiredly, staring up at him with cute, Sammy mussed bedhead, and scrunchy eyes. “What Dean?” he mumbled, his voice rough with the desire to sleep.

 

The sight of sleepy Sammy made Dean smile before straddling his brother’s hips. “I’m sorry Samm. I’m sorry I’ve been a big ol’jerk. You forgive me?”

 

Sam rolled his eyes and half attempted to shove Dean away. “Go away Dean.”

 

“Not until you say you forgive me,” he replied stubbornly, sliding his hands to Sam’s wrists, pinning his arms down playfully. “I love you Sammy and I’m sorry I upset you. Please forgive me, baby? Please?” Usually if he pouted and kissed Sammy’s pretty, pink lips he would give in, so Dean added a few tender kisses and a pout as well.

 

Sam just sighed but there was a small smile forming along his lips. “I guess,” he replied after Dean gave him another kiss. “If you insist, and if you’ll get off’a me so I can sleep.”

 

“Yeah baby, I’ll get ya off,” Dean teased. “Why didn’t you just ask-”

 

“Go _awwaaayyy_ ,” Sam bitched, giving Dean a half-hearted push.

 

“Alright, alright,” Dean mumbled as he stood up. “Jesus, so grumpy.” Sam’s only reply was simply to roll over and to go back to sleep. But they had made up and that was what mattered. Castiel could quit complaining, and now he wouldn’t have to worry about Sam freaking out and shooting someone. Things would be perfectly fine. “Night Sammy.”

 

\--

 

Lying had become so second nature to him that he could even lie to Dean and get away with it now. Sam used to fear lying to Dean because Dean had always made it seem like he would always _know_ when Sam lied. Which was a load of crap, Sam knew now. Dean had _no_ idea when he was lying; like at the hotel a few days ago, when he had told Dean that he had forgiven him. That was a lie; he had not forgive Dean. Not even in the slightest. In all honesty, Sam wanted to punch Dean in the face, and then shoot Castiel in his pretty face. He hated that kid more than anything.

 

What did Castiel _do_ that deserved anything of note? Nothing. He did nothing, except suck Dean’s cock and make his brother happy in the sack. _He_ could do that; he knew which buttons to push to get Dean off. He knew his brother’s body that Castiel did for sure...and Castiel was just trouble. They were going to get caught because of that stupid kid, or at least, that was the plan. Sam glanced down at the dead man, his throat splayed open in a red smile, his eyes staring up at the sky unseeing. Dean and Castiel were back in the Impala fucking. He still had a few minutes.

 

The smokes he had pawned off of Dean were in his coat pocket, so Sam slowly slid them free and dropped them casually on top of the body. Next, he left a small message on a piece of paper that he had written out a few days ago.

 

_Rockland, Maine. Rockland, Maine. Rockland, Maine_. _Two days. Two days. Two days._

 

He tucked that away in the guy’s pocket, before dusting his hands off and slowly turning to walk back down the hill towards the car; it was still rocking and steamed up so Sam went to lean back against a tree and glare. At this point, Sam wished Dean still considered Castiel a pet, and not a person. If he could find a way to make Dean see the kid as an animal again, he could regain his brother’s favor. Not that he wanted it; he didn’t _want_ Dean’s favor. He just wanted Dean to stop being an asshole, and to stop underestimating him. If Dean was going to accuse him of being a snitch, then he would _be_ a snitch. He’d send his idiotic brother to jail, and gladly walk free.

 

Of course, he’d only let Dean be in jail for a month or so before finding a way to bust him out. Perhaps, that would teach Dean a lesson, and they could be _partners_ again, rather than this give, give, give, take, take, take relationship they had going. He was sick and tired of Dean pushing him around. It was his turn to run the show, it was _his_ turn to shine. Without him, Dean would have been caught ages ago; Dean _owed_ him. What Castiel had that he did not, Sam did not understand or fathom. He had everything Castiel had, plus more. Why Dean kept choosing Castiel over him, made no sense to him.

 

The car finally stopped rocking and silence fell over the area. Sam turned his eyes up at the sky and stared up at the moon. They were going to have to skip town soon, once they quit fucking each other long enough to realize they had lingered too long. Sam picked up a rock and tossed it at the car; he wasn’t trying _hit_ Baby, but the rock did end up knocking into the windshield. He hadn’t thrown it hard enough to cause any damage, but that did not stop Dean from climbing out of the car, trying to yank up his pants, his face wild with rage. It was almost hysterical how insane Dean became when someone messed up his car.

 

“Did you do that?!” Dean demanded as he went to check the glass.

 

“No,” Sam lied. “What are you talking about Dean?”

 

“A rock-hit the fuckin’ windshield. Don’t tell me you didn’t hear that!” Dean turned to face him, a frown on his face.

 

“I didn’t hear anything,” Sam replied before walking over. “You done? We gotta leave. We stayed here too long.”

 

Watching Dean stammer and stare up at the sky in question was worth the beating he could possibly receive later when Dean realized that Sam was the only around who could have thrown a rock. A smirk slid across Sam’s face as he slid into the backseat. Lying to Dean was just so easy.

 

\--

 

_Shoot him. Shoot him. Shoot him. Shoot him. Shoot him._

 

The gun was _right there_. He could easily reach over, pick up the gun, and shoot Dean in the head. The sound would wake Sam, and he could turn and shoot him too. He wouldn’t even aim, he would just shoot until they were both dead. Then he could drop the gun and get out of the car, and run away. He could go back home to L.A. and pretend all of this was a bad dream. His mother would pay for the therapy he was definitely going to need, and then he could start to move on with his life.

 

_Shoot him_.

 

Castiel fumbled and picked up the heavy gun in his hand. The white bone handle felt smooth against his palms. Dean was sleeping soundly, slumped down in his seat, his head cradled between the window and his seat. Seeing him sound asleep was almost unnerving; Dean seemed so _peaceful_ , so normal. Not at all like the psychopath he truly was.

 

The gun was heavy in his hands.

 

_Shoot him. Just pull the trigger and_ shoot _him_.

 

His hands were shaking, and he could feel a sob filling his chest. He had to shoot Dean now, while he had the chance. He had to do it _now_. Right now. If he waited, he may never have this chance again. Tears were making his vision swim, and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking.

 

The gun was heavy in his hands.

 

_Shoot him. Just shoot him. Shoot him. Shoot him. Shoot him._

 

Castiel gasped when he pulled the trigger, but there was no deafening sound, no blood spatter, no brains decorating the window and interior of the car. There was just empty silence. The sob wrenched its way free of his chest, and the gun fell from his hands to clatter to the floor, his tears and sobs following. The noise startled Dean awake and he sat up, looking around in bleary confusion. He just kept on crying.

 

“Cas? Baby? What’s wrong-Cas-” Dean slid his arms around him immediately, pulling him close. “Shhh, shhh Baby, it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m here. Was it a dream? Did you have a bad dream?”

  
He could only nod because what else could he say? That he was too in love with Dean to shoot him? He needed to kill Dean and he couldn’t. He couldn’t do it; he was _relieved_ that the gun had been empty. He was fucking relieved that he hadn’t been able to kill Dean Winchester. He shuddered and sobbed, while Dean comforted him. He didn’t even question why Sam hadn’t also woken up to see what was wrong.

 


	10. Chapter 10

“Cas wanted to shoot Dean...he wanted to shoot Dean in the head and you were going to let it happen. You were going to watch him blow your brother’s brains out.” Sam stared at his reflection in disbelief. He _loved_ Dean; he loved Dean more than anything else in the entire world. He didn’t want Dean to _die_ … to learn a lesson, yes, but he didn’t want his brother to die.

 

 _“So why did you watch Castiel hold a gun up and point it at your brother’s head. You didn’t know it was unloaded. It could have been full of bullets, and you were going to just let it happen. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Are you that angry with Dean? Are you_ that _angry?”_  

 

Sam stared at his reflection harder, because he was pretty damn sure the thing had moved and started talking to him. He rubbed his eyes. God, he really needed to pull it together, he was starting to lose his mind. “I’m not that mad at Dean,” he answered angrily. “I just...I’m mad at him a little bit-but I’m not _that_ mad. I’m a little mad, sure, but I shouldn’t have let Cas almost shoot him in the fucking head, he’s a jerk but he doesn’t deserve to die. Not like that. He has a right to fight back.”

 

 _“And where is he right now? He’s out with_ Cas _. He doesn’t even spend time with you anymore. He just takes Cas everywhere. You’ve got one day before you’re in Maine, and you’ve been dropping clues. You_ want _the cops to catch Dean. You want them to catch Dean and Cas, so they’ll go to jail. But what about you? Don’t you think Dean’ll talk? To save his own skin? He’d give you up in a heartbeat if it meant his sentence was lessened. He’ll be put on death row. You think you’re going to bust him out, but you can’t. And you know it.”_

 

He started to pace, ready to wear a track down in the carpet. This was all true; he could not feasibly break Dean out of jail, but maybe that was the whole point. Maybe, deep down, he knew that it was time to _stop_. He also knew that Dean would _never_ stop, not if he could keep getting away with murder. He would keep going; he would keep killing. Perhaps, Sam was ready to stop. He’d go to jail too if he had to. It was time to end this killing spree, and own up to their sins. Dean had been sinning from an early age, and he had brought him down too. He was _tired_. Tired of killing, tired of the life on the run; he was tired of being second best. He wanted to be caught.

 

Which was why he had left their exact location to the police; Castiel’s family had used to have a cabin up in the wilderness, near the sea cliffs. They were going to crash there for the evening. He had left their address. The police would either show up or be there when they arrived. Of course, they were close; they’d be there before tomorrow. Probably before the FBI caught up to them.

 

 _“You’re ready for your big finale. The final ending. The last showdown. You know what you have to do. You_ know _. IT’s the only way you can have Dean to yourself in prison. It’s the only way; your final sin. Your final testament. It’s over.”_

 

Sam paused and turned to stare at the reflection in the mirror; he didn’t look like himself. Ragged, thin, and as white as a sheet, he looked sick. Maybe he was sick, which would explain why he was hallucinating his reflection _talking_ to him. Or maybe, he really was crazy. Dean had convinced him a long time ago that they were _not_ psychotic or insane; they were normal. Despite all of the blood, and the violence; despite the sick things they did to the bodies, despite the innocent lives they had taken. They. Were. Normal.

 

But he was talking to his reflection; how _normal_ could he really be?

 

“Sammy.”

 

Sam felt his heart jump in his chest and he spun around to see Dean standing in the doorway. “Dean-” How much had Dean heard? Had Dean heard him talking to himself? _Oh God_ -

 

“You coming?” Dean asked. “We’re leaving. C’mon.”

 

A wave of relief washed over him and he nodded, quickly grabbing his bag off of the floor to follow Dean back out of the hotel and to the Impala. Castiel was sitting in the front, as usual, a popsicle in his mouth. He tried to keep the glare off of his face, but he couldn’t quite stop himself. Castiel smiled at him, and Sam felt his stomach clench in annoyance. Castiel did not deserve to breathe the same air as them; he was not like them. He was a brat; a fake brat who had almost shot Dean in the head.

 

The car started and Sam stared at the back of his brother’s head with longing; he wanted to turn the clock back and go back to when they had first arrived in L.A. If he had insisted Dean stay rather than go off to find them breakfast, he would have never met Castiel, or his twin. None of this would have happened; they would still be happy together. Dean wouldn’t practically hate him in some cases, and love him in others. He would be Dean’s favorite; forever and always. He would be Dean’s Sammy, and that would be the end of it. No Castiel, no Jimmy, and maybe he would have convinced Dean to go into retirement by now.

 

But that was not how things were playing out, and Sam could only stare at Dean’s head. Images of Dean’s head completely exploded filled Sam’s mind and he wanted to vomit. Dean would have died. Dead-dead; not coming back to life dead. Forever. Six feet under. He shuddered at the thought, and shut his eyes. The car was making him feel sick to his stomach. They needed to pull over and he needed to tell Dean everything; it wasn’t too late. They could go away from their destination. They could turn around and go back the way they came.

 

“Dean,” he said tiredly, his stomach churning as the car bounced a bit on the shitty road.

 

“What?”

 

“Pull over-I’m gonna be sick..”

 

“Don’t fuckin’ throw up in the car!” Dean snapped immediately before swerving to the side of the road to stop.

 

Sam practically fell out of the back seat and crawled to the grass to vomit. The world spun and Sam felt like lying in the cool grass until the nausea passed. He could hear Dean telling Cas to stay in the car, and then his brother was there beside him, his hand on his back. He shut his eyes anyway.

 

“Sammy? Sammy-what’s wrong?” Dean whispered in worry. “What’s goin’ on? Why you sick, baby?”

 

Dean could call him _baby_ all he wanted; it meant nothing now. He called Castiel the same endearment; he called _the car_ baby. That term meant _nothing_ now. Dean’s words were empty lies. He slowly lifted his head to look up into green fields for eyes, full of concern. That was also probably faked. “I’m not your baby,” he replied coldly before he pushed himself up off the ground, returning to the car tiredly. He would sleep the rest of the way to Maine and await to be arrested. They deserved it anyway.

 

\--

 

Henriksen could feel a thrill deep in his stomach, or perhaps it was a laugh. He hadn’t laughed in what felt like years, but he was laughing now. They knew where the killers were headed; they were going to finally catch the sons of bitches. There was a helicopter up ahead of their police cruisers; they had so much back up that they made the CIA look weak.

 

“Sir?”

 

Henriksen looked over at Garth’s confused face, and he just laughed harder.

 

\--

 

“Son of a bitch- _son of a bitch_ -” Dean ran his hands through his hair in distress. The sirens were coming closer, and he was running out of option. Both Sam and Castiel were standing there waiting for him to tell them what to do. “Shit-”

 

“Dean we have to go,” Castiel said.

 

“I _know_ Castiel!”

 

They were at the end of the line; this was it, they were going to go to jail. But how had the police found them? Dean shook his head quickly. He didn’t have time to think on that; he had to think on how to get them out. They couldn’t go back on the road, there was no time. The sound of his own blood rushing filled his ears, and his heart slammed into his chest so hard it made him gasp and forget how to breathe. Dean spun and picked up his duffel bag, gesturing for Sam to do the same. “C’mon,” he snarled coldly.

 

Both Sam and Castiel picked up their bags and then they were running out the backdoor. Dean gave pause before running to glance out the window at his car. “Bye Baby,” he whispered before taking off after Sam and Castiel. The forest tripped them up several times, but Dean ran as fast as he could, making sure to stay behind the two of them, just in case. He had to keep his family _alive_ , Castiel and Sam together. No one was going to be left behind. Despite leg cramps and barely filled lungs, they crashed through the clearing, and Dean stared in horror at the sea cliff they had come upon.

 

There was no other way but _down_. They wouldn’t survive that jump, they would crash against the rocks and die; broken apart like gory marionnettes. Castiel turned to face him, his eyes full of fear. They looked so much like the ocean; it was almost ironic. The boy with the ocean eyes becoming one with the sea. Dean swallowed a lump in his throat and gave them all weak smiles. “I guess this is it,” he said slowly. “End of the line.”

 

Sam turned around slowly, his face so thin and gaunt that his cheekbones could have cut glass. His hair, once sheen and healthy hung in tangled bits around his face. Their clothes all needed washing, and there was dirt smudged along Sam’s chin. “Why?” he asked, his voice cracking with tears.

 

Dean glanced down in shame. “I-I’m sorry Sammy-I...I messed up-”

 

“Yes! You did! You chose _him_ -” Sam pointed at Castiel, “over me!”

 

That made him look up again, clearly confused. “What?”

 

“You chose Castiel over me, over and over and _over_ , you son of a bitch! _Why_?! I don’t know what I did to make you so angry Dean! What did I _do_ to make you hate me?!” Sammy’s face contorted through several different emotions; there was a flash of pain, a moment of fear, and a pause in anger. Hazel eyes were rimmed vermillion, and Sam’s hands were visibly shaking, and he ran them through his raggedy hair. Dean had been too late...Sam had snapped.

 

“Sammy-Sammy-baby-”

 

“I’m _not_ your baby!” Sam screamed, gesticulating angrily.

 

Dean held up both of his hands. “Okay,” he said slowly. “Okay. You’re...you’re not my baby, I hear you...Sammy, I’m sorry. But I love you, and I would never choose anyone over you. I put _nothing_ in front of you-”

 

“You’re a liar,” Sam hissed vehemently. “But, guess what Dean? So am I. I didn’t forgive you that day, and _I’m_ the one that left the police evidence. It’s why they know we’re here. It’s _over_ Dean. Your sick, psychotic killing spree is _over_. I will gladly go to jail if it means that that it’s over. Finally _over_.”

 

The words hit him like a knife to the face. _Sam_ had left evidence behind? His Sammy? His _Sammy_ had betrayed him? Both of them? Usually, Dean had words to retort back, hardly ever was he at a loss, but this was one of those times he could only stammer in shock. “Y-... _you_...you turned us in?”

 

Sam nodded. “Yeah. I did. I thought about telling you-telling you I messed up and that we should go back. Go somewhere else….but _no_. I’m sick of him having you! I’m sick of being second best, Dean! I _love_ you, I love you more than he _ever_ could! God, he held a gun _to your head_ a few nights ago! He pulled the trigger! Your gun was _empty_ but he was going to shoot you! Did you know that?”

 

Dean slowly turned his gaze to Castiel, who looked just as bad as Sam did. Dean could feel the world spinning. If the ground hadn’t felt so solid beneath his feet, he probably would have fallen over. “I’ll deal with Cas later, okay? Just-focus on _me_ Sammy. I’m sorry about everything, alright? But we gotta _go_ Sam. You can’t honestly want to go to jail!”

 

Sam shook his head and Dean could see the tears on his little brother’s face. Sam crying was such a knife to the heart, it made Dean gasp and soon his own eyes were filling with tears.

 

“Sammy-”

 

“I’m sorry Dean,” Sam said brokenly. “But I can’t.”

 

Dean bit his lip, trying to hold his tears at bay. The sirens were so loud now; they were so close, he could feel the FBI practically breathing down their necks. A flash of silver made Dean give pause and he cried out, his hand going out in front of him, but he was too far away. There was no stopping what happened. The gun went off in Sam’s hand and he was certain the world had silenced, but a scream was leaving his throat. He couldn’t hear himself, not over the rushing in his ears. Blood began to appear on the rocks, running like crimson rivers, and Castiel was falling to the rocks.

 

Dean ran at Sam.

 

\--

 

_“Do you like the sea gulls Cas?”_

 

_“Yeah! Yeah!” Castiel smiled excitedly up at the sky over his head, pointing to the white birds far up ahead of him. His tiny hands grasped at the air but he could not reach them. He wanted wings; he wanted to fly with the gulls. The sea roared in his ears and Jimmy was off collecting seashells with their grandfather. His grandmother held out her arms for him, and soon he was rising into the sky. He reached, and reached, but never once could he catch the elusive gulls._

 

_“You want to fly, don’t you Castiel?” his grandmother asked him with a smile._

 

_He nodded eagerly. He wanted to fly high over the ocean, chasing his sea gull friends. He wanted to feel the salt air in his feathers and allow his wings to dip into the spray. He wanted to be one with the air and sky. But no matter how much he wished upon falling stars, four leaf clovers, and birthday candles, he never got his wish. Not ever._

 

\--

 

Dying felt cold.

 

He was shivering violently, as blood poured out of his body like a leaking bag. He could hear the boys fighting. They were yelling, but Castiel could not make out what they were saying. Instead, he focused on the sky and the white birds flying overhead. They danced in circles and allieoops, chasing one another playfully. He had always wanted to join them in their play. When he had been six years old, his grandfather had accidentally caught a gull in a fishing net; the bird had panicked and drowned itself before it could be cut free.

 

Castiel had watched the animal commit accidental suicide in tears. He had wanted to hold the bird but his grandfather hadn’t let him. They had buried the animal under sea rocks, and Jimmy had decorated the grave with seashells. Castiel could feel new tears filling his eyes at the memory of the dead gull. White as snow, it had looked as if it were only sleeping. Would he look as if he were sleeping when the cops found him? The sirens were a constant wailing in his ears, and Castiel sighed, slowly shutting his eyes. But then there was someone there, so he opened his eyes again.

 

“Jimmy,” he whispered with a weak smile.

 

His twin was smiling down at him before gently cupping his face in both hands. Castiel shut his eyes again, quietly apologizing to Jimmy for what had happened to him. He had always been the one to get Jimmy into trouble, but he had always gotten his twin back out again. He hadn’t been able to save Jimmy from the monster’s this time. He _was_ the monster, he realized sadly. The monsters had consumed and ate him, ripping away his humanity and shredding it to unrecognizable pieces.

 

The world was starting to float away and Castiel tried to reach for Jimmy, but his arm was too heavy; it weighed one hundred pounds, it was full of lead.

 

“You’re okay,” Jimmy said to him. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay Castiel.”

 

He pried his eyes open one more time and his eyes fell on the scene, suddenly returning to reality. A moment of clarity, he supposed. Dean was lying on the ground, Sam was standing over him. The police were there, surrounding them. Castiel slowly shut his eyes one more time, with a sigh. The monster was dead.

 

\--

 

“Mr. Winchester.”

 

Sam glanced up slowly from where he had been sitting in a holding room, handcuffed to a chair. “Hello Agent,” he said. “It’s nice to meet you again.”

 

The agent, Victor Henriksen slowly walked over to sit down, lying picture after picture on the table; the victims that he, Dean, and Castiel had claimed together. “So,” Henriksen said. “You mind telling me how this all began?”

 

Sam licked his lips, and slowly raised his eyes up to the agent across from him. “That depends,” he said. “Where’s Dean?”

 

“Your brother is dead,” Henriksen replied. “He died on the operating table.”

 

“I don’t believe you,” he whispered. Sam raised his eyes up and smiled when he saw Dean in the corner of the room. “There you are.”

  
Dean winked at him.

 


End file.
